IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sdences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


<\ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notas/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  c 
to  th« 


Tha  Instituta  hat  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


n 


n 


n 


0 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur       > 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommagda 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAographiquas  en  couleur 

C'Oloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than,  blue  or  black)/ 
£ncre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  an  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
ReliA  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr^e  peut  cauaar  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
11  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutttos 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dans  le  texte. 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  it*  filmias. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  itA  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sent  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique.  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  m6thode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 
D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurees  et/ou  pelliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stainetl  or  foxe« 
Pages  ddcolor^es.  tachaties  ou  piqudas 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachies 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Qualiti  inigala  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  matarit 
Comprend  du  material  suppl^mantaira 


r~^  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

I      I  Pages  discoloured,  stainetl  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Showthrough/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

rn  Includes  supplementary  material/ 


Thaii 
poaai 
of  th« 
filmlr 


Origii 
begin 
the  la 
sion, 
other 
first  f 
sion. 
or  iilii 


Theli 
ahall 
TtNU 
whiel 

IMaps 
differ 
entire 
begini 
right) 
raquir 
meth< 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  M  filmies  A  nouveau  de  fa^on  A 
obtenir  s  meilleure  image  possible. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmantairas: 


Variout  pagings. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessors. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

v/ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


Th«  eopy  filmed  h«r«  hat  b««n  raproduead  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of : 

Dana  Porter  Arts  Library 
University  of  Waterloo 

Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  arm  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  consldaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  eopy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacif icationa. 


L'axamplaira  filmi  fut  raproduit  grAca  A  la 
ginArositA  da: 

Dana  Porter  Arts  Library 
Universit*/  of  Waterloo 

Las  imagas  suivantes  ont  AtA  raproduitas  avec  Ic 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  ot  an 
conformity  avac  las  «^nnditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papar  covers  ara  fllmad 
beginning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropri'ata.  Ail 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  beginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  -^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED "),  or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"), 
whiehavar  appliaa. 


Laa  axamplairas  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  ast  imprimte  sont  filmte  an  commanqant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darnlAre  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  la  second 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  las  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAs  an  comman9ant  par  la 
pramlAre  paga  qui  comporta  una  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  at  en  tarminant  par 
la  darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
darniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
cas:  le  symbols  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa,  piatea,  charts,  stc,  may  be  filmed  et 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illuatratvi  the 
method: 


Lea  cartes,  pienches.  tableaux,  etc.,  pauvent  dtre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cliche,  il  est  film*  d  partir 
da  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  *  droite, 
et  de  haut  an  baa,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'imagea  nAcaeaaira.  Laa  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  le  mAthode. 


}'■                           -.-    ■■-'.  ■     --"■- 

^.,  --             ■■"'"■■■,     ■  "'  -" 

s 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

^ 


'hA 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND  AND  THE  WAY  OUT. 


iM 


^ 


•VM>r  .»•■-«  «_»•>■ 


IN     DARKEST    ENGLAND,    Al 


BY     OBNEBAL     B( 


V 


SLAND,    AND    THE    WAY    OUT. 


BY     OBNERAL     BOOTH. 


,<  ■«  JJ.vl-' .     '^. 


V 


KEY     TO     THE 

The  Chart  ts  Intended  to  givo  a  blrdseye-vlew  of  the  Scheme  described  In  this  bo«k,  and  the  results  eznected 
from  Its  realb^tion.  kov-wk* 


18  (rivoi: 


The  figures  on  the  pillars  represent  the  appalllnf  extent  of  the  misery  and  ruin  extatiucr  In  Qreat  Britain 
ror.  tn  Government  and  other  rotnrng.  ««w»i". 


In  the  raging  Sea.  surrounding  the  Salvation  Lighthouse,  are  to  he  aeen  the  victims  of  vice  and  vovertv  who 
■re  ainlf  InR  to  rain,  but «  horn  the  Officers  appointed  to  carry  out  the  Scheme  are  struggling  to  save. 

On  the  left. »  procession  of  the  rescued  may  be  seen  on  their  way  to  the  various  RarcoM.  WoaxiBova  and 
other  EstabllshmentM  for  Industrial  Labor  In  the  Citt  Colomt,  many  of  which  are  already  in  ei^tence. 

From  the  Cm  Colont  In  the  centre,  another  procession  can  be  seen,  of  those  who,  having  proved  them- 


^^^Mmototi 


KEY    TO     THE     CHAllT 

o«k,  and  the  results  expected 
ito  exUUug  In  Great  Britala, 


»  who.  having  proved  them- 


selves worthy  of  furtlier  asslstniice,  are  on  their  way  to  the  Farm  Chlont,  which,  with  its  Villages,  Co-operative 
i'armi).  Mills,  ami  FartorlHs,  Is  to  be  create<l,  far  away  from  the  tielRhborhood  of  the  public- nouse. 

Krom  the  Fakm  Colon?  are  to  be  scon  Steamers  hurrying  across  the  seas,  crowdei'  with  Kmlgmntii  of  all 
sorts,  procpodirig  eitlior  to  the  exlsitlng  Colonies  of  tlie  British  and  other  Kinplres,  or  to  the  Colont-ov  E»-8t»:  yet 
to  bu  established ;  whilst  the  sturdy  baker  or  the  left  and  the  laundress  on  the  right  suggest,  ou  the  cue  hand, 
plenty  of  work,  and  on  the  other,  abuiidancn  of  food. 

The  more  the  Chart  is  examined  the  more  will  be  seen  of  the  great  blessings  the  Scheme  Is  Intended  to 
convey,  and  the  horrible  destruction  hourly  going  on  amongst  at  least  Three  Mlulons  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
which  we  arc  anxious  to  bring  to  an  end.  And  the  more  the  Scheme  contained  in  this  book  Is  studied  and  assisted, 
the  n^ore  will  the  beautif u!  prospect  held  out  on  the  Chart  be  likely  to  be  brought  into  reality. 


mer 


\^^ 


y 


IN 


IN  DARKEST  ENGLAND 


AND 


THE    WAY   OUT. 


BY 


GENERAL  BOOTH. 


/ 


V/'" 


y 


property  of  *e  Library 
Un:v.r:.;iy  of  Waterloo 


FUNK    &    WAG  NAT./',  ft, 
NEW  YOUK : 
18  &  20  AsTOit  Pr,A(i.; 


1H90. 


'LONDON  : 

44  Fleet  Stkket. 


rUINTBD  IM  THB  UNITED   8TATK8. 


TO    THE    MEMORY 

Or     I  HI 

COMPANION.     COUNSFLLCR,      AND      COMRADE 

OF   NEARLY   40  YEARSi 

THE    SHARER    OF    MY    EVERY   AMBITION 

rcR 

THE   WELFARE  OF  MANKIND, 

MY 
LOVING,    FAITHFUL,    AND    DEVOTED    WIFE 

THIS   BOOK   IS    DEDICATED. 


- 


PREFACE. 


The  progress  ot  The  Salvation  Army  in  its  work  amongst  the  poor 
and  lost  of  many  lands  has  compelled  me  to  fare  the  problems  which  are 
more  or  less  hopefully  considered  in  the  following  pages.  The  grim 
necessities  of  a  huge  Campaign  carried  on  for  many  years  against  the  evils 
which  lie  at  the  root  of  all  the  miseries  of  modern  life,  attacked  in  a 
thousand  and  one  forms  by  a  thousand  and  one  lieutenants,  have  led  me 
step  by  step  to  contemplate  as  a  possible  solution  of  at  least  some  of  those 
problems  the  Scheme  of  Social  Selection  and  Salvation  which  I  have  here 
set  forth. 

When  but  a  mere  child  the  degradation  and  helpless  misery  of  the 
poor  Stockingers  of  my  native  town,  wandering  gaunt  and  hunger-stricken 
through  the  streets  droning  out  their  melancholy  ditties,  crowding  the 
Union  or  toiling  like  galley  slaves  on  relief  works  for  a  bare  subsistence, 
kindled  in  my  heart  yearnin  ^  to  help  the  poor  which  have  continued  to 
this  day  and  which  have  had  a  powerful  influence  on  my  whole  life.  At 
last  I  may  be  going  to  see  my  longings  to  help  the  workless  realised.  I 
think  I  am. 

The  commiseration  then  awakened  by  the  misery  of  this  class  has  been 
an  impelling  force  which  has  never  ceased  to  make  itself  felt  during 
forty  years  of  active  service  in  the  salvation  ot  men.  During  this  time  I 
am  thankful  that  I  have  been  able,  by  the  good  hand  of  God  upon  me,  to 
do  something  in  mitigation  of  the  miseries  of  this  class,  and  to  bring  not 
only  heavenly  hopes  and  earthly  gladness  to  the  hearts  of  multitudes  of 
these  wretched  crowds,  but  also  many  material  blessings,  including  such 


PREFACE. 


commonplace  tilings  as  (ood,  raiment,  home,  and  work,  the  parent  of  so 
many  other  tempo'-al  benefits.  And  thus  many  poor  creat'.res  have 
proved  Godliness  to  be  "  profitable  unto  all  things,  hav'ng  the  promise 
of  the  life  that  now  is  as  well  as  of  that  which  is  to  come  " 

These  results  have  been  mainly  attained  by  spiritual  means.  I  have 
boldly  asserted  that  whatever  his  peculiar  charac'^er  or  circumstances 
might  be,  if  the  prodigal  would  come  home  to  his  Hea\  enly  Father,  he 
would  find  enough  and  to  spare  in  the  Father's  house  to  supply  all  his 
need  both  for  this  world  and  the  next;  and  I  have  known  thousands, 
nay,  I  can  say  tens  of  thousands,  who  have  literally  proved  this  to  be 
true,  having,  with  little  or  no  temporal  assistance,  come  out  of  the  darkest 
depths  of  destitution,  vice  and  crime,  to  be  happy  and  honest  citizens  and 
true  sons  and  servants  of  God. 

And  yet  all  the  way  through  my  career  I  have  keenly  felt  the 
remedial  measures  usually  enunciated  in  Christian  programmes  and 
ordinarily  employed  by  Christian  philanthropy  to  be  lamentably  inade- 
quate for  any  effectual  dealing  with  the  despairing  miseries  of  these 
outcast  classes.  The  rescued  are  appallingly  few — a  ghastly  minority  com- 
pared with  the  multitudes  who  struggle  and  sink  in  the  open-moutned 
abyss.  Alike,  therefore,  my  humanity  and  my  Christianity,  if  I  may  speak  of 
them  in  any  way  as  separate  one  from  the  other,  have  cried  out  for  some 
more  comprehensive  method  of  reaching  and  saving  the  perishing  crowas. 

No  doubt  it  is  good  for  men  to  climb  unaided  out  of  the  whirlpool  on  to 
the  rock  of  dehveiance  in  the  very  presence  of  the  temptations  which 
have  hitherto  mastered  them,  and  to  maintain  a  footing  therir  with  the 
same  billows  of  temptation  washing  over  them.  But,  alas !  with  many 
this  seems  to  be  literally  impossible.  That  decisivciess  of  character,  that 
moral  nerve  which  takes  hold  of  the  rope  thrown  for  the  rescue  and  kepps 
its  hold  amidst  all  the  resistances  that  have  to  be  encounteieo,  is  wanting. 
It  )s  gone.    The  general  wreck  has  shattered  and  disorganiser.'  the  wno'c  man. 


'\ 


» 


PREFACE. 


i 


Alas,  what  multitudes  there  are  around  us  everywhere,  many  kftown  to 
my  readers  personally,  and  any  number  who  may  be  known  to  them  by  a 
very  short  walk  from  their  own  dwellings,  who  are  in  this  very  plight  I 
Their  vicious  habits  and  destitute  circumstances  make  it  certain  that, 
without  some  kind  of  extraordinary  help,  they  must  hunger  and  sin,  and 
sin  and  hunger,  until,  having  multiplied  their  kind,  and  filled  up  the 
measure  of  their  miseries,  the  gaunt  fingers  of  death  will  close  upon  them 
and  terminate  their  wretchedness.  And  all  this  will  happen  this  very 
winter  in  the  midst  ofthe  unparalleled  wealth,  and  civilisation,  and  philan- 
thropy of  this  profecsedly  most  Christian  land. 

IIjw,  I  propose  to  go  straight  for  these  sinking  classes,  and  in  doing 
so  shall  continue  to  aim  at  the  heart.  I  still  prophesy  the  uttermost 
disappointment  unlc  js  that  citadel  is  reached.  In  proposing  to  add  one  more 
to  the  methods  I  have  already  put  into  operation  to  this  end,  do  not 
let  it  be  supposed  that  I  am  the  less  dependent  upon  the  old  plans, 
or  that  I  seek  anything  short  of  the  old  conquest.  If  we  help  the 
man  it  is  in  order  that  we  may  change  him.  The  builder  who 
should  elaborate  his  design  and  erect  his  house  and  risk  his  reputation 
without  burning  his  bricks  would  be  pronounced  a  failure  and  a  fool. 
Perfection  of  architectural  beauty,  unlimited  expenditure  of  capital,  un- 
failing watchfulness  of  his  labourers,  would  avail  him  nothing  if  the  bricks 
were  merely  unkilned  clay.  Let  him  kindle  a  fire.  And  so  here  I  see  the 
folly  of  hoping  to  accomplish  anything  abiding,  either  in  the  circumstances 
or  the  morals  of  these  hopeless  classes,  except  there  be  a  change  effected 
in  the  whole  man  as  well  as  in  his  surroundings.  To  this  everything  I 
hope  to  attempt  will  tend.  In  many  cases  I  shall  succeed,  in  some  I  shall 
fail;  but  even  in  failing  of  this  my  ultimate  design,  I  shall  at  least  benefit 
the  bodies,  if  not  th^  souls,  of  men ;  and  if  I  do  not  save  the  fathers,  I 
shall  make  a  better  chance  for  the  children. 

It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  in  this  or  in  any  other  development  that 
may  follow,  1  have  no  intention  to  depart  in  the  smallest  degree  from  the 


r 


PREFACE. 

main  principles  on  which  I  have  acted  in  the  past.  My  only  hope  for  the 
permanent  deliverance  of  mankind  from  misery,  either  in  this  world  or  the 
next,  is  the  regeneration  or  remaking  of  the  individual  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  through  Jesus  Christ.  But  in  providing  for  the  relief  of  temporal 
misery  I  reckon  that  I  am  only  making  it  easy  where  it  is  now  difficult, 
and  possible  where  it  is  now  all  but  impossible,  for  men  and  women  to 
find  their  way  to  the  Cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

That  I  have  confidence  in  my  proposals  goes  without  saying.  I  believe 
they  will  work.  In  miniature  many  of  them  are  working  already.  But  I 
do  not  claim  that  my  Scheme  is  either  perfect  in  its  details  or  complete  in 
the  sense  of  being  adequate  to  combat  all  forms  of  the  gigantic  evils 
against  which  it  is  in  the  main  directed.  Like  other  human  things  it  must 
be  perfected  through  suffering.  But  it  is  a  sincere  endeavour  to  do 
something,  and  to  do  it  on  principles  which  can  be  instantly  applied  and 
universally  developed.  Time,  experience,  criticism,  and,  above  all,  the 
guidance  of  God  will  enable  us,  I  hope,  to  advance  on  the  lines  here  laid 
down  to  a  true  and  practical  application  of  the  words  of  the  Hebrew 
Prophet :  "  Loose  the  bands  of  wickedness  ;  undo  the  heavy  burdens ;  let 
the  oppressed  go  free;  break  every  yoke;  deal  thy  bread  to  the  hungiy; 
bring  the  poor  that  are  cast  out  to  thy  house.  When  thou  secst  the  naked 
cover  him  and  hide  not  thyself  from  thine  own  flesh.  Draw  out  thy  soul 
to  the  hungry — Then  they  that  be  of  thee  shall  build  the  old  waste  places 
and  Thou  shalt  raise  up  the  foundations  of  many  generations." 

To  one  who  has  been  for  thirty-five  years  indissolubly  associated  with 
me  in  every  undertaking  I  owe  much  of  the  inspiration  which  has  found 
expression  in  this  book.  It  is  probably  difficult  for  me  to  fully  estimate 
the  extent  to  which  the  splendid  benevolence  and  unbounded  sympathy  ot 
her  character  have  pressed  me  forward  in  the  life-long  service  of  man,  to 
which  we  have  devoted  both  ourselves  and"  our  children.  It  will  be  an 
ever  green  and  precious  memory  to  me  that  amid  the  ceaseless  suttering  of 


PREFACE. 


a  dreadful  malady  my  dying  wife  found  relief  in  considering  and  develop! nj; 
the  suggestions  for  the  moral  and  social  and  spiritual  blessing  of  the  people 
which  are  here  set  forth,  and  I  do  thank  God  she  was  taken  from  me 
only  when  the  book  was  practically  complete  and  the  last  chapters  had 
been  sent  to  the  press. 

In  conclusion,  I  have  to  acknowledge  tne  services  rendered  to  me  in 
preparing  this  book  by  Officers  under  my  command.  There  could  be 
no  hope  of  carrying  out  any  part  of  it,  but  for  the  fact  that  so  many 
thousands  are  ready  at  my  call  and  under  my  direction  to  labour  to  the 
very  utmost  of  their  strength  for  the  salvation  of  others  without  the  hope 
of  earthly  reward.  Of  the  practical  common  sense,  the  resource,  the  readi- 
ness lor  every  form  of  usefulness  of  those  Officers  and  Soldiers,  the  world 
has  no  conception.  Still  less  is  it  capable  of  understanding  the  height 
and  depth  of '.he"r  self-sacrificing  devotion  to  God  and  the  poor. 

I  have  also  to  acknowledge  valuable  literary  help  from  a  friend  of  the 
poor,  who,  though  not  in  any  way  connected  with  the  Salvation  Army,  has 
the  deepest  sympathy  with  its  aims  and  is  to  a  large  extent  in  harmony 
with  its  principles.  Without  such  assistance  I  should  probably  have  found 
it — overwhelmed  as  I  already  am  with  the  affairs  of  a  world-wide 
enterprise — extremely  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  have  presented  these 
proposals  for  which  I  am  alone  responsible  in  so  complete  a  form,  at  any 
rate  at  this  time.  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  any  substantial  part  of  my  plan 
is  successfully  carried  out  he  will  consider  himself  more  than  repaid  for 
the  services  so  ably  rendered. 

WILLIAM    BOOTH. 


International   Headquarters  or 
The  Salv.\tion   Army, 

London,  E.G.,  October,  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


PART   I.  — THE    DARKNESS. 

CHAPTER   I. 
Why  "Darkest  England"?         

CHAPTER   U. 
The  Submerged  Tenth 

CHAPTER   HI. 


•  ••  «•• 


Tlie  Homeless 


The  Out-of-Works       ... 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CHAPTER  V. 
On  the  Verge  of  the  Abyss      ... 


The  Vicious 


The  Criminals 


CHAPTER  VI. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


CHAPTER  VIi: 


PAGE. 
9 


17 


24 


...         40 


..        46 


...      57 


The  Children  of  the  Lost 


CHAPTER   IX. 


Is  there  no  Help? 


#••  flat  9*m  •••  •••  •#• 


67 


PART  II.— DELIVERANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  STUP   NDOUS    UNDERTAKING. 

Section  i. — The  Essentials  to  Success     ...  ... 

„       2. — My  Scheme  ...  ...  ... 


PAGE 
90 


CHAPTER  II. 

TO  THE  r.ESCUE  ! — THE  CITY  COLONY. 

Section  I. — Food  and  Shelter  for  Every  Man 

2. — Work  for  the  Out-of-Works. — The  Factory 
3. — The  Regimentation  of  the  Unemployed 
„      4. — The  Household  Salvage  Brigade         ... 


94 
105 
III 
114 


CHAPTER  III. 

TO  THE  country! — THE  FARM  COLONY. 
Section  l, — The  Farm  Proper    ... 

„      2. — The  Industrial  Village  ...  ... 

,.       3. — Agricultural  Villages  ...  ... 

„      4. — Co-operative  Farm  ...  ...  ... 


124 

135 
140 

142 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW  BRITAIN. — THE  COLONY  OVER  SEA. 

Section  i. — The  Colony  and  the  Colonists 

„       2. — Universal  Emigration  ...  ... 

II      3. — The  Salvation  Ship...  ,„  ,., 


...     146 
...     150 

..      152 


CHAPTER  V. 

MORE    CRUSADES.  PAGE 

Section  I. — A  Slum  Crusade. — Our  Slum  Sisters  ...  ...  ...  158 

2. — The  Travelling  Hospital        ...            ...  ...  ...  170 

3. — Regeneration     of     our    Criminals. — The  Piisi-ii    Galo 

Brigade...             ...             ...             ...  ...  ...  173 

4. — Effectual  Deliverance  lor  the  Drunkard  ...  ...  180 

5. — A  New  Way  of  Escape  for  Lost  Women. — The  Rescue 

Homefj  ...            ...            ...  ...  ...  188 

6. — A  Preventive  Home  for  Unfallcn  Girls  when  in  Danger  ...  I92 

7. — Enquiry  Office  for  Lost  People            ...  ...  ...  194 

8. — Refuges  for  the  Children  of  the  Streets  ...  ...  201 

9. — Industrial  .Schools  ...            ...            ...  ...  ...  202 

10.— Asylums  for  Moral  Lunatics  ...            ...  ...  ...  20d. 


CHAPTER  VL 

ASSISTANCE   IN   GENERAL. 


Sect 


on  I. — Improved  Lodgings 

2. — Model  Suburban  Villages 
3. — The  Poor  Mans  Bank 
4. — The  Poor  Man's  Lawyer 
5. — Intelligence  Department 
6. — Co-operation  in  General 
7. — Matrimonial  Bureau 
8. — ^Whitechapel-by-the-Sea 


208 
210 
■213 
218 
227 
229 
233 
237 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CAN   IT   BE   DONE,   AND  HOW? 

Section  i. — The  Credentials  of  the  Salvation  Ariuy 
„       2. — How  much  will  it  cost  ? 
„       3. — Some  advantages  stated 
„      4. — Some  objections  met 
„      5. — Recapitulation. 


241 

246 
252 
258 
270 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  Practical  Conclusion , 


277 


In    Darkest    England 


PART  I.— THE    DARKNESS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
WHY  "DARKEST  ENGLAND"? 
This  summer  the  attention  of  the  civilised  world  has  been  arrested 
by  the  story  which  Mr.  Stanley  has  told  of  "  Darkest  Africa  "  and 
his  journeyings  across  the  heart  of  the  Lost  Continent.  In  all  that 
spirited  narrative  of  heroic  endeavour,  nothing  has  so  much  im- 
pressed the  imagination,  as  his  description  of  the  immense  forest, 
which  offered  an  almost  impenetrable  barrier  to  his  advance.  The 
intrepid  explorer,  in  his  own  phrase,  "  marched,  tore,  ploughed, 
and  cut  his  way  for  one  hundred  and  sixty  days  through  this  inner 
womb  of  the  true  tropical  forest."  The  mind  of  man  with  difficulty 
endeavours  to  realise  this  immensity  of  wooded  wilderness,  covering 
a  territory  half  as  large  again  as  the  whole  of  France,  where  the 
rays  of  the  sun  never  penetrate,  where  in  the  dark,  dank  air,  filled 
with  the  steam  of  the  heated  morass,  human  beings  dwarfed  into 
pygmies  and  brutalised  into  cannibals  lurk  and  live  and  die.  Mr. 
Stanley  vainly  endeavours  to  bring  home  to  us  the  full  horror  of 
that  awful  gloom.     He  says  : 

Take  a  tliick  Scottish  copse  dripping  with  rain  ;  imagine  this  to  be  a  mere 
undergrowth  nourished  under  the  impenetrable  shade  of  ancient  trees  ranging 
from  loo  to  180  feet  high  ;  briars  and  thorns  abundant;  lazy  creeks  meandering 
through  the  deptlis  of  tlie  jungle,  and  sometimes  a  deep  affluent  of  a  great  river, 
imagine  this  forest  and  jungle  in  all  stages  of  decay  and  growth,  rain  pattering 
on  you  every  other  day  of  the  year ;  an  impure  atmosphere  with  its  dread  con- 
sequences, fever  and  dysentery ;  gloom  throughout  the  day  and  darkness 
almost  palpable  throughout  the  night;  and  then  if  you  can  imagine  such 
a  forest  extending  the  entire  distance  from  Plymouth  to  Peterhead,  you  uiil 
have  a  fair  idea  of  some  of  the  inconveniences  endured  by  us  in  the  Congo  forest. 

The  denizens  of  this  region  are  filled  with  a  conviction  that  the 
forest  is  endless — interminable.  In  vain  did  Mr.  Stanley  and  his 
companions  endeavour  to  convince  them  that  outside  the  dreary  wood 
wrre  to  be  found  sunlight,  pasturage  and  peaceful  meadows. 

They  replied  in  a  manner  that  seemed  to  imply  that  we  must  be  strange 
creatures  to  suppose  that  it  would  be  possible  for  any  world  to  exist  s»vc  their 


10 


WHY    "DARKEST    ENGLAND"? 


illimitable  forest.  "No,"  they  replied,  shaking  tiuii  heads  compassionatrly,  and 
pitying  our  absurd  questions,  "all  likt;  this,"  and  they  moved  their  hands 
svveepingly  to  illustrate  that  the  world  was  ail  alike,  iinthinn  but  trees,  trees  and 
trees — great  trees  rising  as  high  as  an  armw  shot  to  tin  sky,  lilting  their  crowns 
intertwining  their  branches,  pressing  and  crowding  one  against  tiie  ot!ier,  until 
neither  the  sunbeam  nor  shaft  of  light  can  penetrate  it. 

'•  We  entered  the  forest,"  says  Mr.  Stanley,  "  with  confidence  ;  forty 
pioneers  in  front  with  axes  and  bill  hooks  to  clear  a  path  through  the 
obstructions,  praying  that  God  and  good  fortune  would  lead  us." 
But  before  the  conviction  of  the  forest  dwellers  that  the  forest  was 
without  end,  hope  faded  out  of  the  hearts  of  the  natives  of  Stanley's 
company.  The  men  became  sodden  with  despair,  preaching  was 
useless  to  move  their  brooding  suUenness,  their  morbid  gloom. 

The  little  religion  they  knew  was  nothing  more  than  legendary  lore,  and  in 
their  memories  there  dimly  floated  a  story  of  a  land  which  grew  darker  and 
darker  as  one  travelled  towards  the  end  of  the  earth  and  drew  nearer  to  the 
place  where  a  great  serpent  lay  supine  and  coiled  round  the  whole  world.  Ah  I 
then  the  ancients  must  have  referred  to  this,  where  tlic  light  is  so  ghastly,  and 
the  woods  are  endless,  and  are  so  still  and  solemn  and  grey  ;  to  this  oppressive 
loneliness,  amid  so  much  life,  which  is  so  chilling  to  the  poor  distressed  heart; 
and  the  horror  grew  darker  with  their  fancies  ;  the  cold  ot  early  morning,  the 
comfortless  grey  of  dawn,  the  dead  white  mist,  the  ever-dripping  tears  of  the 
dew,  the  deluging  rains,  the  appalling  thunder  bursts  and  the  echoes,  and  the 
wonderful  play  of  the  dazzling  lightning  And  when  the  night  comes  with  its  thick 
palpable  darkness,  and  they  lie  huddled  in  their  damj)  little  hut.s,  and  they  hear 
the  tempest  overhead,  and  the  howling  of  the  wild  winds,  the  grinding  and 
groan'ng  of  the  storm-tost  trees,  and  the  dread  sounds  of  the  falling  giants,  and 
the  shock  ol  the  trembling  earth  which  sends  their  hearts  with  fitful  leaps  to 
their  throats,  and  the  roaring  and  a  rushing  as  o*'  a  mad  overwhelming  sea — 
oh,  then  the  horror  is  intensified !  When  the  marc.i  nas  begun  once  again,  and 
the  files  are  slowly  moving  through  the  woods,  they  renew  their  n-orbid 
broodings,  and  ask  themselves :  How  long  is  this  to  last  ?  Is  tlie  joy  of  life  to 
end  thus  .■•  Must  we  jog  on  day  after  day  in  this  cheerless  gloom  and  this 
joyless  uuskiness,  until  we  stagger  and  fall  and  rot  among  the  toads  ?  Then 
they  disappear  into  the  woods  by  twos,  and  threes,  and  sixes ;  and  after  the 
caravan  has  passed  they  return  by  the  trail,  some  to  reach  Yambuya  and  upset 
the  young  officers  with  their  tales  of  woe  and  war  ;  some  to  fall  sobbing  under 
a  spear-thrust ;  some  to  wander  and  stray  in  the  dark  mazes  of  the  woods,  hope- 
lessly lost ;  and  some  to  be  carved  for  the  cannibal  feast.  And  those  who  remain 
compelled  to  it  by  fears  of  greater  danger,  mechanically  march  on,  a  prey  to 
dread  and  weakness. 

That  is  the  forest.  But  what  of  its  denizens  ?  They  are  com- 
paratively few;  only  some  hundreds  of  thousands  living  in  small 
tribes  from  ten  to  thirty  miles  apart,  scattered  over  an  area  on 
which  ten  thoii$ai)d  million  trees  put  out  the  sun  from  a  region  fotjr 


I 


j 


THE    AFRICAN    PARALLEL. 


11 


times  as  wide  as  Circat  Hritain.  Of  these  |)y>,Mnios  there  arc  two 
kinds  ;  one  a  very  (ic>{radc(i  specimen  with  trnethkc  eyes,  close-set 
nose,  more  nearly  approjiching  the  hahoon  tiiaii  was  Hupposed  to  he 
possible,  but  very  human ;  the  other  very  handsome,  with  frank 
open  innocent  features,  very  prepossc-»sing.  They  arc  quick  and 
intelligent,  capable  of  deep  affection  and  gratitude,  showing  re- 
markable industry  and  patience.  A  pygmy  hoy  of  eighteen  worlrd 
with  consuming  zeal  ;  time  with  him  was  too  precious  to  waste  in 
talk.    I  lis  mind  seemed  ever  concentrated  on  work.     Mr.  Stanley  said  : 

"  When  I  once  stopped  him  to  ask  him  his  naiiu;,  his  face  seemed 
to  say,  '  Please  don't  stop  me.     I  nuist  finish  my  task.' 

"  All  alike,  the  baboon  variety  and  the  haiulsome  innocents,  are 
cannibals.  They  are  possessed  with  a  perfect  mania  for  meat.  VVc 
were  obliged  to  bury  our  dead  in  the  river,  lest  tlic  bodies  should  he 
e.xhumed  and  eaten,  even  wiicn  they  had  died  from  smallpox." 

Upon  tht  pygmies  and  all  the  dwellers  of  the  forest  has  descended 
a  devastating  visitation  in  the  shape  of  the  ivory  raiders  of  civilisa- 
tion. The  race  that  wrote  the  Arabian  Nights,  huilt  Bagdad  and 
Granada,  and  invented  Algebra,  sends  forth  men  with  the  hunger  for 
gold  in  their  hearts,  and  Enfield  muskets  in  their  hands,  to  plunder 
and  to  slay.  They  exploit  the  domestic  affections  of  the  forest 
dwellers  in  order  to  strip  them  of  all  they  possess  in  the  world.  That 
has  been  going  on  for  years.  It  is  going  on  to-day.  It  has  come  to 
be  regarded  as  the  natural  and  normal  law  of  existence.  Of  the 
I'eligion  of  these  hunted  |)ygmies  Mr.  Stanley  tells  us  nothing, 
perhaps  because  there  is  nothing  to  tell.  But  an  earlier  traveller, 
Dr.  Kraff,  says  that  one  of  these  tribes,  by  name  Doko,  had  some 
notion  of  a  Supreme  Being,  to  whom,  under  the  name  of  Ycr,  they 
sometimes  addressed  prayers  in  moments  of  sadness  oi"  terror.  In 
these  prayers  they  say;  "Oh  Yer,  if  Thou  dost  really  exist  why 
dost  Thou  let  us  be  slaves  ?  We  ask  not  for  food  or  clothing,  fpr 
we  live  on  snakes,  ants,  and  mice.  Thou  hast  made  us,  wherefore 
dost  Thou  let  us  be  trodden  down  ?  " 

It  is  a  terrible  picture,  and  one  that  has  engraved  itself  deep  on 
the  heart  of  civilisation.  But  while  brooding  over  the  awful 
presentation  of  life  as  it  exists  in  the  vast  African  forest,  it  seemed  to 
me  only  too  vivid  a  picture  of  many  parts  of  our  own  land.  As 
there  is  a  darkest  Africa  is  there  not  also  a  darkest  England  ? 
Civilisation,  which  can  breed  its  own  barbr.'ians,  does  it  not  also 
breed  its  own  pygmie*  ?     May  we  not  find  a  parallel  at  our  own 


12 


WHY    "DARKEST    ENGLAND"? 


M 


1$ 


doors,  and  discover  within  a  stone's  throw  of  our  cathedrals  and 
palaces  similar  horrors  to  those  which  Stanley  has  found  existing 
in  the  great  Equatorial  forest  ? 

The  more  the  mind  dwells  upon  the  subject,  the  closer  the  analogy 
appears     The  ivory  raiders  who  brutally  traffic  in  the  unfortunate 
denizens  of  the  forest  glades,  what  are  they  but  the  publicans  who 
flourish  on  the  weakness  of  our  poor  ?     The  two  tribes  of  savages, 
the  human  baboon  and  the  handsome   dwarf,  who  will  not  speak 
lest    it  impede  him   in   his   task,    may   be    accepted   as   the   two 
varieties   who  are  continually  present   with   us — the   vicious,  lazy 
lout,  and  the  toiling  slave.     They,  too,  have  lost  all  faith   of  life 
being  other  than  it  is  and  has  been.     As  in  Africa,  it  is  all  trees, 
trees,  trees  with  no  other  world  conceivable  ;  so  is  it  here — it  is  all 
vice  and  poverty  and  crime.     To  many  the  world  is  all  slum,  with 
the  Workhouse  as  an  intermediate  purgatory  before  the  grave.     And 
just  as  Mr.  Stanley's  Zanzibaris  lost  faith,  and  could  only  be  induced 
to  plod  on  in  brooding  sullenness  of  dull  despair,  sj  the  most  of  our 
social  reformers,  no  matter  how  cheerily  they  may  have  started  off, 
with  forty  pioneers  swinging  blithely  their  axes  as  they  force  their 
way  into  the  wood,  soon  become  depressed  and  despairing.     Who 
can  battle  against  the  ten  thousand  million  trees  ?     Who  can  hope  to 
make  headway  against  the  innumerable   adverse  conditions    which 
doom  the  dweller  in  Darkest   England   to   eternal    and    immutable 
misery  ?     What  wonder  is  it  that  many  of  the  warmest  hearts  and 
enthusiastic  workers  feel  disposed  to  repeat   the  lament  of  the  old 
English  chronicler,  who,  speaking  of  the  evil   days  which  fell  upon 
our  forefathers  in  the  reign  of  Stephen,  said  "  It  seemed  to  them  as 
if  God  and  his  Saints  were  dead." 

An  analogy  is  as  good  as  a  suggestion  ;  it  becomes  wearisome 
when  it  is  pressed  too  far.  But  before  leaving  it,  think  for  a  moment 
how  close  the  parallel  is,  and  how  strange  it  is  that  so  much  interest 
should  be  excited  by  a  narrative  of  human  squalor  and  human 
heroism  in  a  distant  continent,  while  greater  squalor  and  heroism 
not  less  magnificent  may  be  observed  at  our  very  doors. 

The  Equatorial  Forest  traversed  by  Stanley  resembles  that  Darkest 
England  of  which  I  have  to  speak,  alike  in  its  vast  extent — both  stretch, 
in  Stanley's  phrase, "  as  far  as  from  Plymouth  to  Peterhead  ; "  its  mono- 
tonous darkness,  its  malaria  and  its  gloom,  its  dwarfish  de-humanized 
inhabitants,  the  slavery  to  which  they  are  subjected,  their  privations 
^nd  their  misery.     That  which  sickens  the  stoutest  heart,  and  causes 


THE    SLOUGH    OP    DESPOND   OF   OUR    TIME. 


13 


many  of  our  bravest  and  best  to  fold  their  hands  in  despair,  is  the 
apparent  impossibihty  of  doing  more  than  merely  to  peck  at  the 
outside  of  the  endless  tangle  of  monotonous  unde  growth  ;  to  let 
light  into  it,  to  make  a  road  clear  through  it,  that  shall  not  be  imme- 
diately choked  up  by  the  ooze  of  the  morass  and  the  luxuriant  para- 
sitical growth  of  the  forest — who  dare  hope  for  that  ?  At  present, 
alas,  it  would  seem  as  though  no  one  dares  even  to  hope !  It  is  the 
great  Slough  of  Despond  of  our  time. 

And  what  a  slough  it  is  no  man  can  gauge  who  has  not  waded 
therein,  as  some  of  us  have  done,  up  to  the  very  neck  for  long  years. 
Talk  about  Dante's  Hell,  and  all  the  horrors  and  cruelties  of  the 
torture-chamber  of  the  lost !  The  man  who  walks  with  open  eyes 
and  with  bleeding  lie^rt  through  the  sham.bles  of  our  civilisation 
needs  no  such  fantastic  images  of  the  poet  to  teach  him  h'.rror. 
Often  and  often,  when  I  have  seen  the  young  and  the  poor  and  the 
helpless  go  down  before  my  eyes  into  the  mcrass,  trampled  underfoot 
by  beasts  of  prey  in  human  shape  that  haunt  these  regions,  it  seemed 
as  if  God  were  no  longer  in  His  world,  but  that  in  His  stead  reigned 
a  fiend,  merciless  as  Hell,  ruthless  as  the  grave.  Hard  it  is,  no  doubt, 
to  read  in  Stanley's  pages  of  the  slave-traders  coldly  arranging  for 
the  surprise  of  a  village,  the  capture  of  the  inhabitants,  the  massacre 
of  these  \vho  resist,  and  the  violation  of  all  the  women ;  but  the  stony 
streets  of  London,  if  they  could  but  speak,  would  tell  of  tragedies  as 
awful,  of  ruin  is  complete,  of  ravishments  as  liorrible,  as  if  we  were 
in  Central  Africa ;  only  the  ghastly  devastation  is  covered,  corpse- , 
like,  with  the  artificialities  and  hypocrisies  of  modern  civilisation. 

The  lot  of  a  negress  in  the  Equatorial  Forest  is  not,  perhaps,  a  very 
happy  one,  but  is  it  so  very  much  worse  than  that  of  many  a  pretty 
orphan  girl  in  our  Christian  capital  ?  We  talk  about  the  brutalities 
of  the  dark  ages,  and  we  profess  to  shudder  as  we  read  in  books  of 
the  shameful  exaction  of  the  rights  of  feudal  superior.  And  yet  here, 
beneath  our  very  eyes,  in  our  theatres,  in  our  restaurants,  and  in  ma'iy 
other  places,  unspeakable  though  it  be  but  to  name  it,  the  same  hideous 
abuse  flourishes  unchecked.  A  youn^  penniless  girl,  if  she  be  pretty, 
is  often  hunted  from  pillar  to  post  by  her  employers,  confronted  always 
by  the  alternative — Starve  or  Sin.  And  when  once  the  poor  girl  has 
consented  to  buy  the  right  to  earn  her  living  by  the  sacrifice  of  her 
virtue,  then  she  is  treated  as  a  slave  and  an  outcast  by  the 
evry  men  whj  have  ruined  her.  Her  word  becomes  unbeliev- 
able,   her    lite     an    ignominy,     and     she     is     swept    downward 


14 


WHY    "  DARKEST    E'^GLAND  "  ? 


5 

I 


ever  downward,  into  the  bottomless  perdition  of  prostitution.  But 
there,  even  in  the  lowest  depths,  excommunicated  by  Humanity  and 
outcast  from  God,  she  is  far  nearer  the  pitying  heart  of  the  One  true 
Saviour  than  all  the  men  who  forced  her  down,  aye,  and  than  all  the 
Pharisees  and  Scribes  who  stand  silently  by  while  these  fiendish 
wrongs  are  perpetrated  before  their  very  eyes. 

The  blood  boils  with  impotent  rage  at  the  sight  of  these  enormities, 
callously  inflicted,  and  silently  borne  by  these  miserable  victims. 
Nor  is  it  only  women  who  are  the  victims,  although  their  fate  is  the 
most  tragic.  Those  firms  which  reduce  sweating  to  a  fine  art,  who 
systematically  and  d'=''.iberately  defraud  the  workman  of  his  pay, 
who  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor,  and  who  rob  the  widow  and  the 
orphan,  and  who  for  a  pretence  make  great  professions  of  public- 
spirit  and  philanthropy,  these  men  nowadays  are  sent  to  Parliament 
to  make  laws  for  the  people.  The  old  prophets  sent  them  to  Hell — 
but  we  have  changed  all  that.  They  send  their  victims  to  Hell,  and 
are  rewarded  by  all  that  wealth  can  do  to  make  their  lives  comlortable. 
Read  the  House  of  Lords'  Report  on  the  Sweating  System,  and  ask  if 
any  African  slave  system,  making  due  allowance  for  the  superior  civili- 
sation, and  therefore  sensitiveness,  of  the  victims,  reveals  more  misery. 

Darkest  England,  like  Darkest  Africa,  reeks  with  malaria.  The 
foul  and  letid  breath  of  our  slums  is  almost  as  poisonous  as  that  of 
the  African  swamp.  F'ever  is  almost  as  chronic  there  as  on  the 
Equator.  Every  year  thousands  of  children  are  killed  off  by  what  is 
called  defects  of  our  sanitary  system.  They  are  in  reality  starved 
and  poisoned,  and  all  that  can  be  said  is  that,  in  many  cases,  it  is 
better  tor  them  that  they  were  taken  away  h-om  the  trouble  to  come. 

Just  as  in  Darkest  Africa  it  is  only  a  part  of  the  evil  and  misery 
that  comes  iiom  the  superior  race  who  invade  the  forest  to  enslave 
and  massacre  its  miserable  'nhabitants,  so  with  us,  much  of  the 
misery  of  those  whose  lot  we  ai*^  considering  arises  from  their  own 
habits.  Drunkenness  and  all  manner  of  uncleanness,  moral  and 
physical,  abound.  Have  you  ever  watched  by  the  bedside  of  a  man 
in  delirium  tremens  ?  Multiply  the  sufferings  of  that  one  drunkard 
by  the  hundred  thousand,  and  you  have  some  idea  of  what  scenes 
are  being  witnessed  in  all  our  great  cities  at  this  moment.  As  in 
Africa  streams  intersect  the  forest  in  every  direction,  so  the  gin- 
shop  stands  at  every  corner  with  its  River  of  the  Water  of  Death 
flov/ing  seventeen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  for  the  destruction 
of  the  people.     A  population  sodden  with  drink,  steeped  in  vice, 


A    LIGHT    BEYOND. 


15 


eaten  up  by  every  social  and  physical  malady,  these  are  the  denizens 
of  Darkest  England  amidst  whom  my  life  has  been  spent,  and  to 
whose  rescue  I  would  now  summon  all  that  is  best  in  the  manhood 
and  womanhood  of  our  land. 

But  this  book  is  no  mere  lamentation  of  despair.  For  Darkest 
England,  as  for  Darkest  Africa,  there  is  a  light  beyond.  I  think 
I  see  my  way  out  a  way  by  which  these  wretched  ones  may  escape 
from  the  gloom  of  their  miserable  existence  into  a  higher  and  happier 
life.  Long  wahJ.^rinq-  in  the  Forest  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  at  our 
doors,  has  familiarised  me  with  its  horrors  ;  but  while  the  realisation 
is  a  vigorous  spur  to  action  it  has  never  been  so  oppressive  as  to 
extinguish  hope.  Mr.  Stanley  never  succumbed  to  the  terrors  which 
oppressed  his  followers.  He  had  lived  in  a  larger  life,  and  knew 
that  the  forest,  though  long,  was  not  interminable.  Every  step 
forward  brought  him  nearer  his  destined  goal,  nearer  to  the  light  of 
the  sun,  the  clear  sky,  and  the  rolling  uplands  of  the  grazing  land. 
Therefore  he  did  not  despair.  The  Equatorial  Forest  was,  after  all, 
a  mere  corner  of  one  quarter  of  the  world.  In  the  knowledge  of  the 
light  outside,  in  the  confidence  begotten  by  past  experience  of  suc- 
cessful endeavour,  he  pressed  forward  ;  and  when  the  i6o  days' 
struggle  was  over,  he  and  his  men  came  out  into  a  pleasant  place 
where  the  land  smiled  with  peace  and  plenty,  and  their  hardships 
and  hunger  were  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  a  great  deliverance. 

So  I  venture  to  believe  it  will  be  with  us.  But  the  end  is  not  yet. 
We  are  still  in  the  depths  of  the  depressing  gloom.  It  is  in  no  spirit 
of  light-heartedness  that  this  book  is  sent  forth  into  the  world 
as  if  it  was  written  some  ten  years  ago. 

If  this  were  the  first  time  that  this  wail  of  hopeless  misery  had 
sounded  on  our  ears  the  matter  would  have  been  less  serious.  It  is 
because  we  have  heard  it  so  often  that  the  case  is  so  desperate. 
The  exceeding  bitter  cry  of  the  disinherited  has  become  to  be  as 
familiar  in  the  ears  of  men  as  the  dull  roar  of  the  streets  or  as  the 
moaning  of  the  wind  through  the  trees.  And  so  it  rises  uncea^'ing, 
year  in  and  year  out,  and  we  are  too  busy  or  too  idle,  too  indifferent 
or  too  selfish,  to  spare  it  a  thought.  Only  now  and  then,  on  rare  occa- 
sion's, when  sonic  clear  voice  is  heard  giving  more  articulate  utterance 
to  the  miseries  of  the  miserable  men,  do  we  pause  in  the  regular  routine 
of  our  daily  duties,  and  shudder  as  we  realise  for  one  brief  moment 
what  life  means  to  the  inmates  of  the  Slums.  But  one  of  the  grimmest 
social  problems  of  our  time  should  be  sternly  faced,  not  with  a  view 


16 


WHY    "DARKEST    ENGLAND"? 


.' 
{-'• 


to  the  generation  of  profitless  emotion,  but  with  a  view  to  its 
solution. 

Is  it  not  time?  There  is,  it  is  true,  an  audacity  in  the  mere 
suggestion  that  the  problem  is  not  insoluble  that  is  enough  to  take 
away  the  breath.  But  can  nothing  be  done?  If,  after  full  and 
exhaustive  consideration,  we  come  to  the  deliberate  conclusion 
that  nothing  can  be  done,  and  that  it  is  the  inevitable  and  inexorable 
destiny  of  thousands  of  Englishmen  to  be  brutalised  into  worse  than 
beasts  by  the  condition  of  their  environment,  so  be  it.  But  if,  on  the 
contrary,  we  are  unable  to  believe  that  this  "  awful  slough,"  which 
engulfs  the  manhood  and  womanhood  of  generation  after  generation, 
is  incapable  of  removal ;  and  if  the  heart  and  intellect  of  mankind  alike 
revolt  against  the  fatalism  of  despair,  then,  indeed,  it  is  time,  and  high 
i.'V'^,  that  the  question  were  faced  in  no  mere  dilettante  spirit,  but  with  a 
rc«(.lute  determination  to  make  an  end  of  the  crying  scandal  of  our  age. 

What  a  satire  it  is  upon  our  Christianity  and*  our  civilisation, 
that  the  existence  of  these  colonies  of  heathens  and  savages  in  the 
heart  of  our  capital  should  attract  so  little  attention  I  It  is  no  better 
than  a  ghastly  mockery — theologians  might  use  a  stronger  word — to 
call  by  the  name  of  One  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost  those  Churches  which  in  the  midst  of  lost  multitudes  either 
sleep  in  apathy  or  display  a  fitful  interest  in  a  chasuble.  Wh>  all 
this  apparatus  of  temples  and  meeting-houses  to  save  men  from 
perdition  in  a  world  which  is  to  come,  while  never  a  helping  hand  ia 
stretched  out  to  save  them  from  the  inferno  of  their  present  life  ?  Is 
it  not  time  that,  forgetting  for  a  moment  their  wranglings  about  the 
infinitely  little  or  infinitely  obscure,  they  should  concentrate  all  their 
energies  on  a  united  eflfort  to  break  this  terrible  perpetuity  of 
perdition,  and  to  rescue  some  at  least  of  those  for  whom  they 
profess  to  believe  their  Founder  came  to  die  ? 

Before  venturing  to  define  the  remedy,  I  begin  by  describing  the 
malady.  But  even  when  presenting  the  dreary  picture  of  our  social 
ills,  and  describing  the  difficulties  wliich  confront  us,  I  speak  not 
in  despondency  but  in  hope.  "I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed." 
I  know,  therefore  do  I  speak.  Darker  England  is  but  a  fractional 
part  of  "  Greater  England."  There  i?:  wealth  enough  abundantly  to 
minister  to  its  social  regeneration  so  far  as  wealth  can,  if  there  be 
but  heart  enough  to  set  about  the  work  in  earnest.  And  I  hope  and 
believe  that  the  heart  will  not  be  lacking  when  once  the  problem  is 
manfully  faced,  and  the  method  of  its  solution  plainly  pointed  out. 


i;i 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  SUBMERGED  TENTH. 


In  setting  forth  the  difficulties  which  have  to  be  grappled  with,  I 
shall  endeavour  in  all  things  to  understate  rather  than  overstate  my 
case.  I  do  this  for  two  reasons :  first,  any  exaggeration  would  create 
a  reaction  ;  and  secondly,  as  my  object  is  to  demonstrate  the  prac- 
ticability of  solving  the  problem,  I  do  not  wish  to  magnify  its 
dimensions.  In  this  and  in  subsequent  chapters  I  hope  to  convince 
those  who  read  them  that  there  is  no  overstraining  in  the 
representation  of  the  facts,  and  nothing  Utopian  in  the  presentation 
of  remedies.  I  appeal  neither  to  hysterical  emotionalists  nor  head- 
long enthusiasts ;  but  having  tried  to  approach  the  examination  of 
this  question  in  a  spirit  of  scientific  investigation,  I  put  forth  my 
proposals  with  the  view  of  securing  the  supf)ort  and  co-operation  ot 
the  sober,  serious,  practical  men  and  women  who  constitute  the  saving 
strength  and  moral  backbone  of  the  country.  I  fully  admit  that  there 
is  much  that  is  lacking  in  the  diagnosis  of  the  disease,  and,  no  doubt, 
in  this  first  draft  of  the  prescription  there  is  much  room  for  improve- 
ment, which  will  come  when  we  have  the  light  of  fuller  experience. 
But  with  all  its  drawbacks  and  defects,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  submit 
my  proposals  to  the  impartial  judgment  of  all  who  are  interested  in 
the  solution  of  the  social  question  as  an  immediate  and  practical  mode 
of  dealing  with  this,  the  greatest  problem  of  our  time. 

The  fi-st  duty  of  an  investigator  in  approaching  the  study  of  any 
question  is  to  eliminate  all  that  is  foreign  to  the  inquiry,  and  to. 
concentrate  his  attention  upon  the  subject  to  be  dealt  with.  Here  I 
may  remark  that  I  make  no  attempt  in  this  book  to  deal  with  Society 
as  a  whole.  I  leave  to  others  the  formulation  of  ".mbitious  pro- 
grammes for  the  reconstruction  of  our  entire  social  system ;  not 
because  I  may  not  desire  its  reconstruction,  but  because  the 
elaboration  of  any  plans  which    are    more  or  less  visionary  and 


1». 


18 


THE    SUBMERGED    TENTH. 


incapable  of  realisation  for  many  years  would  stand  in  the  way  of 
the  consideration  of  this  Scheme  for  dealing  with  the  most  urgently 
pressing  aspect  of  the  question,  which  I  hope  may  be  put  into 
operation  at  once. 

In  taking  this  course  I  am  aware  that  I  cut  myself  off  from  a  wide 
and  attractive  field  ;  but  as  a  practical  man,  dealing  with  sternly 
prosaic  facts,  I  must  confine  my  attention  to  that  particular 
section  of  the  problem  which  clamours  most  pressingly  for 
a  solution.  Only  one  thing  I  may  say  in  passing.  There 
is  nothing  in  my  scheme  which  will  bring  it  into  collision  either  with 
Socialists  of  the  State,  or  Socialists  of  the  Municipality,  with  In- 
dividualists or  Nationalists,  or  any  of  the  various  schools  of  thought 
in  the  great  field  of  social  economics — excepting  only  those  anti- 
Christian  economists  who  hold  that  it  is  an  offence  against  the 
doctrine  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  to  try  to  save  the  weakest 
from  going  to  the  wall,  and  who  believe  that  when  once  a  man  is 
down  the  supreme  duty  of  a  self-regarding  Society  is  to  jump  upon 
him.  Such  economists  will  naturally  be  disappointed  with  this  book. 
I  venture  to  believe  that  all  others  will  find  nothing  in  it  to 
offend  their  favourite  theories,  but  perhaps  something  of  helpful 
suggestion  whicli  they  may  utilise  hereafter. 

What,  then,  is  Darkest  England  ?  For  whom  do  we  claim  that 
"  urgency  "  which  gives  their  case  priority  over  that  of  all  other 
sections  of  their  countrymen  and  countrywomen  ? 

I  claim  it  for  the  Lost,  for  the  Outcast,  for  the  Disinherited  of  the 
World. 

These,  it  may  be  said,  are  but  phrases.  Who  are  the  Lost  ?  1 
reply,  not  in  a  religious,  but  in  a  social  sense,  the  lost  are  tiiose 
who  have  gone  under,  who  have  lost  their  foothold  in  Society,  those 
to  whom  the  prayer  to  our  Heavenly  Father,  "  Give  us  day  by  day 
our  daily  bread,"  is  either  unfulfilled,  or  only  fulfilled  by  the  Devil's 
agency :  by  the  earnings  of  vice,  the  proceeds  of  crime,  or  the 
contribution  enforced  by  the  threat  of  the  law. 

But  I  will  be  more  precise.  The  denizens  in  Darkest  England, 
ibr  whom  I  appeal,  are  (i)  those  who,  having  no  capital  or  income  of 
their  own,  would  in  a  month  be  dead  from  sheer  starvation  were  they 
exclusively  dependent  upon  the  money  earned  by  their  own  work  ; 
and  (2)  those  who  by  their  utmost  exertions  are  unable  to  attain 
the  regulation  allowance  of  food  which  the  law  prescribes  as  indis- 
pensable even  for  the  worst  criminals  in  our  gaols. 


THE    CAB    HORSE    IDEAL    OF    EXISTENCE. 


19 


I  sorrowfully  admit  that  it  would  be  Utopian  in  our  present  social 
arrangements  to  dream  of  attaining  for  every  honest  Englishman  a 
gaol  standard  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life.  Some  time,  perhaps,  we 
may  venture  to  hope  that  every  honest  worker  on  English  soil  will 
always  be  as  warmly  clad,  as  healthily  housed,  and  as  regularly  fed  as 
our  criminal  convicts — but  that  is  not  yet. 

Neither  is  it  possible  to  hope  for  many  years  to  come  that  human 
beings  generally  will  be  as  well  cared  for  as  horses.  Mr.  Carlyle 
long  ago  remarked  that  the  four-footed  worker  has  already  got  all 
that  this  two-handed  one  is  clamouring  for  :  "  There  are  not  many 
horses  in  England,  able  and  willing  to  work,  which  have  not  due 
food  and  lodging  and  go  about  sleek  coated,  satisfied  in  heart." 
You  say  it  is  impossible ;  but,  said  Carlyle,  "The  human  brain, looking 
at  these  sleek  English  horses,  refuses  to  believe  in  such  impossibility 
for  English  men."  Nevertheless,  forty  years  have  passed  since 
Carlyle  said  that,  and  we  seem  to  be  no  nearer  the  attainment  of  the 
four-footed  standard  for  the  two-handed  worker.  "  Perhaps  it  might 
be  nearer  realisation,"  growls  the  cynic,  "  if  we  could  only  produce 
men  according  to  demand,  as  we  do  horses,  and  promptly  send  them 
to  the  slaughter-house  when  past  their  prime  " — which,  of  course,  is 
not  to  be  thought  of. 

What,  then,  is  the  standard  towards  which  we  may  venture  to  aim 
with  some  prospect  of  realisation  in  our  time?  It  is  a  very  humble 
one,  but  if  realised  it  would  solve  the  worst  problems  of  modern  Society. 

It  is  the  standard  of  the  London  Cab  Horse. 

When  in  the  streets  of  London  a  Cab  Horse,  weary  or  careless  or 
stupid,  trips  and  falls  and  lies  stretched  out  in  the  midst  of  the  traffic, 
there  is  no  question  of  debating  how  he  came  to  stumble  before  we 
try  to  get  him  on  his  legs  again.  The  Cab  Horse  is  a  very  real  illus- 
tration of  poor  broken-down  humanity;  he  usually  falls  dowri  because 
of  overwork  and  underfeeding.  If  you  put  him  on  his  feet  without 
altering  his  conditions,  it  would  only  be  to  give  him  another  dose  of 
agony  ;  but  first  of  all  you'll  have  to  pick  him  up  again.  It  may  have 
been  through  overwork  or  underfeeding,  or  it  may  have  been  all  his 
own  fault  that  he  has  broken  his  knees  and  smashed  the  shafts,  but 
that  does  not  matter.  If  not  for  his  own  sal-e,  then  merely  in  order 
to  prevent  an  obstruction  of  the  traffic,  all  attention  is  concentrated 
upon  the  question  of  how  we  are  to  get  him  on  his  legs  again.  The 
load  is  taken  off,  the  harness  is  unbuckled,  or,  if  need  be,  cut,  and 
everything  is  done  to  help  him  up.     Then  he  is  put  in  the  shafts 


20 


THE    SUBMERGED    TENTH. 


m 


again  and  once  more  restored  to  his  regular  round  of  work. 
That  is  the  first  point.  The  second  is  that  every  Cab  Horse  in 
London  has  three  things  ;  a  shelter  for  the  night,  food  for  its  stomach, 
and  work  allotted  to  it  by  which  it  can  earn  its  corn. 

These  are  the  two  points  of  the  Cab  Horse's  Charter.  When 
he  is  down  he  is  helped  up,  and  while  he  lives  he  has  food,  shelter 
and  work.  That,  although  a  humble  standard,  is  at  present 
absolutely  unattainable  by  millions — literally  by  millions — of  our 
fellow-men  and  women  in  this  country.  Can  the  Cab  Horse 
Charter  be  gained  for  human  beings  ?  I  answer,  yes.  The  Cab 
Horse  standard  can  be  attained  on  the  Cab  Horse  terms.  If  you 
get  your  fallen  fellow  on  his  feet  again.  Docility  and  Discipline  will 
enable  you  to  reach  the  Cab  Horse  ideal,  otherwise  it  will  remain 
unattainable.  But  Docility  seldom  fails  where  Discipline  is  intelli- 
gently maintained.  Intelligence  is  more  frequently  lacking  to  direct, 
than  obedience  to  follow  direction.  At  any  rate  it  is  not  for  those 
who  possess  the  intelligence  to  despair  of  obedience,  until  they  have 
done  their  part.  Some,  no  doubt,  like  the  bucking  horse  that  will 
never  be  broken  in,  will  always  refuse  to  submit  to  any  guidance  but 
their  own  lawless  will.  They  will  remain  either  the  Ishmaels  or  the 
Sloths  of  Society.  But  man  is  naturally  neither  an  Ishmael  nor  a  Sloth. 

The  first  question,  then,  which  confronts  us  is,  what  are  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  Evil?  How  many  of  our  fellow-men  dwell  in  this  Darkest 
England?  How  can  we  take  the  census  of  those  who  have  fallen  bel  >w 
the  Cab  Horse  standard  to  which  it  is  our  aim  to  elevate  the  most 
wretched  of  our  countrymen  ? 

The  moment  you  attempt  to  ans.wer  this  question,  you  are  con- 
fronted by  the  fact  that  the  Social  Problem  has  scarcely  been  studied 
at  all  scientifically.  Go  to  Mudie's  and  ask  for  all  the  books  that 
have  been  written  on  the  subject,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  find 
how  few  there  are.  There  are  probably  more  scientific  books 
treating  of  diabetes  or  of  gout  than  there  are  dealing  with  the  great 
social  malady  which  eats  out  the  vitals  of  such  numbers  of  our 
people.  Of  late  there  has  been  a  change  for  the  better.  The  Report 
of  the  Royal  Commission  on  the  Housing  of  the  Poor,  and  the  Report 
of  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Lords  on  Sweating,  represent  an 
attempt  at  least  to  ascertain  the  facts  which  bear  upon  the  Condition 
of  the  People  question.  But,  after  all,  more  minute,  patient,  intelli- 
gent observation  has  been  devoted  to  the  study  of  Earthworms,  than 
to  the  evolution,  c"  rather  the  degradation,  of  the  Sunken  Section  of 


i 


SOME    GHASTLY    FIGURES. 


21 


our  people.  Here  and  there  in  the  immense  field  individual  workers 
make  notes,  and  occasionally  emit  a  wail  of  despair,  but  where  is 
there  any  attempt  even  so  much  as  to  take  the  first  preliminary  step 
of  counting  those  who  have  gone  under  ? 

One  book  there  is,  and  so  far  as  I  know  at  present,  only  one, 
which  even  attempts  to  enumerate  the  destitute.  In  his  "  Life  and 
Labour  in  the  East  of  London,"  Mr.  Charles  Booth  attempts  to  form 
some  kind  of  an  idea  as  to  the  numbers  of  those  with  whom  we  have 
to  deal.  With  a  large  staff'  of  assistants,  and  provided  with  all  the 
facts  in  possession  of  the  School  Board  Visitors,  Mr.  Booth  took  an 
industrial  census  of  East  London.  This  district,  which  comprises 
Tower  Hamlets,  Shoreditch,  Bcthnal  Green  and  Hackney,  contains 
a  population  of  908,000 ;  that  is  to  say,  less  than  one-fourth  of  the 
population  of  London. 

How  do  his  statistics  worK  out  ?  If  we  estimate  the  number  of 
the  poorest  class  in  the  rest  of  London  as  being  twice  as  numerous 
as  those  in  the  Eastern  District,  instead  of  being  thrice  as  numerous, 
as  they  would  be  if  they  were  calculated  according  to  the  population 
in  the  same  proportion,  the  following  is  the  result  : — 


Paupers 

Inmates  ot  Workhouses,  Asylums, 
and  Hospitals 
Homeless 

Loafers,  Casuals,  and   some  Crim- 
inals   

Starving 

Casual    earnings  between   i8s.  per 
week  and  chronic  want    . . 

The  Very  Poor. 

Intermittent    earnings   i8s.   to 

l)er  week     ... 
Small  regular  earnings  i8s.  to 

per  week 


East  London 


I7,OC» 


Estimate  for 
rest  of  London. 


34,000 


Total 


51,000 


!IS. 


!IS. 


22S. 


Regular  wages,   artizans,  etc., 
to  30S.  per  week 

Higher  class  labour,  30s.  to  50s.  per 
week  

Lower    middle  class,  shopkeepers, 
clerks,  etc 

Upper  middle  class  (servant  keepers) 


11,000  .. 

23,000  .. 

.  33.000 

100,000  .. 

.  200,000  . 

.  300,000 

74,000  . 

.  148,000  . 

.  222,000 

129,000  . 

.  258,000  . 
662,000 

.  387,000 

331,000 

993000 

377,000 

121,000 

34,000 

45,000 

908,000 


22 


THE    SUBMERGED    TENTH. 


It  may  be  admitted  that  East  London  affords  an  exceptionally  bad 
district  from  which  to  gcncraHse  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  Wages 
are  higher  in  London  tlian  elsewhere,  but  so  is  rent,  and  the  number 
of  the  homeless  and  starving  is  greater  in  the  human  wairen  at  the 
East  End.  There  are  31  millions  of  people  in  Great  Hritain, 
exclusive  of  Ireland.  If  destitution  existed  everywhere  in  East 
London  profiortions,  there  would  be  31  times  as  many  homeless 
and  starving  people  as  there  are  in  the  district  round  Hethnal  Green. 

But  let  ua  suppose  that  the  East  London  rate  is  double  the 
average  for  the  rest  of  the  country.  That  would  bring  out  the 
following  figures : — 

Houseless 


Loafers,  Casuals,  and  some  Criminals 
Starvi.nt, 

Casual  earnings  or  chronic  want ... 

Total  Hoiisflcss  and  Starving 
In  VVorkliuuses,  Asylums,  &c. 


Fast  I  ondon.  United  Kinffdotn, 

..    11,000     165,500 

..100,000     1,550,000 


.111,000     1,715,500 

.  17,000  190,000 


128,000        1,905,500 

Of  those  returned  as  homeless  and  starving,  870,000  were  in 
receipt  of  outdoor  relief. 

To  these  must  be  added  the  inmates  of  our  prisons.  In  1889, 
174,779  persons  were  received  in  the  prisons,  but  the  average 
number  in  prison  at. any  one  time  did  not  exceed  60,000.  The 
figures,  as  given  in  the  Prison  Returns,  are  as  follows  : — 

In  Convict  Prisons 
In  Local  Prisons  ... 


In  Reformatories  ... 
In  Industrial  Schools 
Criminal  Lunatics 


11,660 
20,883 
1,270 

2t,4>3 
910 

56,136 


Add  to  this  the  number  of  indoor  paupers  and  lunatics  (excluding 
criminals)  78,966 — and  we  have  an  army  of  nearly  two  millions 
belonging  to  the  submerged  classes.  To  this  there  must  be  added, 
at  the  very  least,  another  million,  representing  those  dependent  upon 
the  criminal,  lunatic  and  other  classes,  not  enumerated  here,  and  the 
more  or  less  helpless  of  the  class  immediately  above  the  houseless  and 
starving.    This  brings  my  total  to  three  millions,  or,  to  put  it  roughly 


'i 

I 


OESTITUTION-3,000,000    STRONG. 


23 


in 


to  one-tenth  of  tlie  population.  According  to  Lord  Hrabnzon  and  Mr. 
Samuel  Smith,  "between  two  and  three  millions  of  our  population  arc 
always  pauperised  and  degraded."  Mr.  Chamberlain  says  there  i.s  a 
"  population  equal  to  that  of  the  metropolis,"  -that  is,  between  four 
and  five  millions — "  which  has  remained  constantly  in  a  state  of  abject 
destitution  and  misery."  Mr.  Giffcn  is  more  moderate.  The  sub- 
merged class,  according  to  him,  comprises  one  in  five  of  maiuial 
labourers,  six  in  lOO  of  the  population.  Mr.  Giffen  does  not  add 
the  third  million  which  is  living  on  the  border  line.  Between  Mr. 
Chamberlain's  four  millions  and  a  half,  and  Mr.  Giffen's  1,800,000, 
I  am  content  to  take  three  millions  as  representing  the  total  strength 
of  the  destitute  army. 

Darkest  England,  then,  may  be  said  to  have  a  population  about 
equal  to  that  of  Scotland.  Three  million  men,  women,  and  children, 
a  vast  despairing  multitude  in  a  condition  nominally  free,  but  really 
enslaved  ; — these  it  is  whom  we  have  to  save. 

It  is  a  large  order.  England  emancipated  her  negroes  sixty  years 
ago,  at  a  cost  of  ;^40,ooo,ooo,  and  has  never  ceased  boasting  about  it 
since.  But  at  our  own  doors,  from  "  Plymouth  to  Pcterliead," 
stretches  this  waste  Continent  of  humanity — three  million  human 
beings  who  are  enslaved — some  of  them  to  taskniastcs  as  merciless 
as  any  West  Indian  overseer,  all  of  them  to  destitution  and  despair. 

Is  anything  to  be  done  with  them  ?  Can  anything  be  done  for 
them?  Or  is  this  million-headed  mass  to  be  regarded  as  oflering  a 
problem  as  insoluble  as  that  of  the  London  sewage,  wliich,  feculent  and 
festering,  swings  heavily  up  and  down  the  basin  of  the  Thames  with 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide  ? 

This  Submerged  Tenth — is  it,  then,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  nine- 
tenths  in  the  midst  of  whom  they  live,  and  around  whose  homes  they 
rot  and  die  ?  No  doubt,  in  every  large  mass  of  human  beings  there 
will  be  some  incurably  diseased  in  morals  and  in  body,  some  for 
whom  nothing  can  be  done,  i:Tre  of  whom  even  the  optimist  must 
despair,  and  for  whom  he  tan  prescribe  nothing  but  the  bene- 
ficently stern  restraints  of  an  asylum  or  a  gaol. 

But  is  not  one  in  ten  a  proportion  scandalously  high  ?  The 
Israelites  of  old  set  apart  one  tribe  in  twelve  to  minister  to  the  Lord 
in  the  service  of  the  Teniple;  but  must  we  doom  one  in  ten  of 
"  God's  Englishmen  "  to  the  service  of  the  great  Twin  Devils — 
Destitution  and  Despair  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    HOMELESS. 


Darkest  England  may  be  described  as  consisting  broadly  of  three 
circles,  one  within  the  other.  The  outer  and  widest  circle  is 
inhabited  by  the  starving  and  the  homeless,  but  honest,  Poor.  The 
second  by  those  who  live  by  Vice ;  and  the  third  and  innermost  region 
at  the  centre  is  peopled  by  those  who  exist  by  Crime.  The  whole  of 
the  three  circles  is  sodden  with  Drink.  Darkest  England  has  many 
more  public-houses  than  the  Forest  of  the  Aruwimi  has  rivers,  of 
which  Mr.  Stanley  sometimes  had  to  cross  three  in  half-an-hour. 

The  borders  of  this  great  lost  land  are  not  sharply  defined.  They 
are  continually  expanding  or  contracting.  Whenever  there  is  a 
period  of  depression  in  trade,  they  stretch  ;  when  prosperity  returns, 
they  contract.  So  far  as  individuals  are  concerned,  there  are  none 
among  the  hundreds  of  thousands  who  live  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  the  dark  forest  who  can  truly  say  that  they  or 
their  children  are  secure  from  being  hopelessly  entangled  in 
its  labyrinth.  The  death  of  the  bread-winner,  a  long  illness, 
a  failure  in  the  City,  or  any  one  of  a  thousand  other  causes 
which  might  be  named,  will  bring  within  the  first  circle 
those  who  at  present  imagine  themselves  free  from  all  danger  of 
actual  want.  The  death-rate  in  Darkest  England  is  high.  Death 
is  the  great  gaol-deliverer  of  the  captives.  But  the  dead  are  hardly 
in  the  grave  before  their  places  are  taken  by  others.  Some  escape, 
but  the  majority,  their  health  sapped  by  their  surroundings,  become 
weaker  and  weaker,  until  at  last  they  fall  by  the  way,  perishing 
without  hope  at  the  very  doors  of  the  palatial  mansions  which,  may- 
be, some  of  them  helped  to  build. 

Some  seven  years  ago  a  great  outcry  was  made  concerning  the 
Housing  of  the  Poor.  Much  was  said,  and  rightly  said — it  could  not 
b?  said  top  strongly — cgncerning  the  disease-breeding,  manhood- 


V 


LAZARUS    ON    THE    EMBANKMENT. 


2B 


destroying  diaraclcr  of  many  of  tlic  tcnemciUs  in  which  the  pof>r 
nerd  in  our  large  cities.  Hut  there  is  a  depth  below  that  <  ''• 
dweller  in  the  slums.  It  is  tliat  of  the  dweller  in  the  street,  who  l:,is 
not  even  a  lair  in  tlie  slums  wliicli  he  can  call  his  own.  'I'lic  housi"- 
less  Out-of-Work  is  in  one  res|)<;ct  at  least  like  Ilim  of  whom  it  was 
said,  "  Foxes  have  holes,  and  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  tlie 
Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  His  head." 

The  existence  of  these  ti.nfortunates  was  somewhat  rudely  forcrd 
upon  the  attention  of  Society  in  1887,  when  Trafalgar  Square  be- 
came the  camping  ground  of  the  Homeless  Outcasts  of  Lornl.. 
Our  Shelters  have  done  something,  but  not  enough,  to  provide  l.i 
the  outcasts,  who  this  night  and  every  night  are  walking  about  'Ik 
streets,  not  knowing  where  they  can  find  a  spot  on  which  to  rest 
their  weary  frames. 

1  lere  is  the  return  of  one  of  my  Officers  who  was  told  off  this 
summer  to  report  upon  the  actual  condition  of  the  Homeless  who 
have  no  roof  to  sheltc :  iliem  in  all  London  : — 

There  are  still  a  largi-  iiiimhiT  of  Londoners  and  a  considerable  percentage 
of  wanderers  from  the  country  in  search  of  work,  who  find  themselves  at  night 
fall  destitute.  These  now  betake  themselves  to  the  seats  under  the  plane  tni- 
on  the  Embankment.  Formerly  they  endeavoured  to  occupy  all  the  scat>  lui 
the  lynx-eyed  .Metropolitan  Police  declined  to  allow  any  sucii  proceedings.  .1  J 
the  dossers,  knowing  the  invariable  kindness  of  the  City  Police,  made  tracks  for 
that  portion  of  the  Embankment  which,  lying  east  of  the  Temple,  comes  under 
the  control  of  the  Civic  Fathers.  Here,  between  the  Temple  and  Blackfriars,  1 
found  the  poor  wretches  by  the  score;  almost  every  seat  contained  its  full 
complement  of  six — some  men,  some  women — all  reclining  in  various  postures 
and  nearly  all  fast  asleep.  Just  as  Big  Ben  strikes  two,  the  moon, 
flasliing  across  the  Thames  and  ligliting  up  the  stone  work  of  the 
Embankment,  brings  into  relief  a  pitiable  spectacle.  Here  on  the 
stone  abutments,  which  afford  a  slight  protection  from  the  biting  wind, 
are  scores  •f  men  lying  side  by  side,  huddled  together  for  warmth, 
and,  of  course,  without  any  other  covering  than  their  ordinary  clothing, 
which  is  scanty  enough  at  the  best.  Some  have  laid  down  a  few  pieces  of 
waste  paper,  by  way  of  taking  the  chill  off  the  stones,  but  the  majority  are  too 
tired,  even  for  that,  and  the  nightly  toilet  of  most  consists  of  first  removing 
the  hat,  swathing  the  head  in  whatever  old  rag  may  be  doing  duty  as  a 
handkerchief,  and  then  replacing  the  hat. 

The  intelligent-looking  elderly  man,  who  was  just  fixing  himself  up  on  a 
seat,  informed  me  that  he  frequently  made  that  his  night's  abode.  "  You  see," 
quoth  he,  "there's  nowhere  else  so  comfortable.     I  was  here  last  night,  and 


26 


THE    HOMELESS. 


i     I 


Monday  and  Tuesday  as  well,  that's  four  nights  this  week.  I  had  no  money  for 
lodgings,  couldn't  earn  any,  try  as  I  might.  I've  had  one  bit  of  bread  to-day, 
nothing  else  whatever,  and  I've  earned  nothing  to-day  or  yesterday ;  I  had 
threepence  the  day  before.  Gets  my  living  by  carrying  parcel;;,  or  minding 
huises,  oi  odu  jobs  of  that  sort.  You  see  I  haven't  got  my  health,  that's 
where  it  is.  I  used  to  work  on  the  London  General  Omnibus  Company  and 
after  that  on  the  Road  Car  Company,  but  I  had  ti  go  *o  tlie  infirmary  with 
bronchitis  and  couldn't  get  work  after  that.  What's  the  good  of  a  man  what's 
got  bronchitis  and  just  left  the  infirmary  ?  Who'll  engage  him,  I'd  like  to  know  ? 
Besides,  it  makes  me  short  of  breath  at  times,  and  I  can't  do  much.  I'm  a 
widower ;  wife  died  long  ago.  I  have  one  boy,  abroad,  a  sailor,  but  he's  only 
lately  started  and  can't  help  me.  Yes!  its  very  fair  out  here  of  nights,  seats 
rather  hard,  but  a  bit  of  waste  paper  makes  it  a  lot  softer.  We  have  women 
sleep  here  often,  and  children,  too.  They're  •  ery  well  conducted,  and  there's 
seldom  many  rows  here,  you  see,  because  everybody's  tired  out.  Were  too 
sleepy  to  make  a  row." 

Another  party,  a  tall,  dull,  helpless-looking  individual,  had  walkea  up  from 
the  country ;  would  prefer  not  to  mention  the  place.  He  had  hoped  to  have 
obtained  a  hospital  letter  at  the  Mansion  House  so  as  to  obt  lin  a  truss  for  a 
bad  rupture,  but  failing,  had  tried  various  other  places,  also  in  vain,  winding 
up  minus  money  or  food  on  the  Embankment. 

In  addition  to  these  sleepers,  a  considr;rable  number  walk  about  the  streets 
up  till  the  earlj  hours  of  the  morning  to  hunt  up  some  job  which  will  bring  a 
copper  into  the  empty  exchequer,  and  save  them  from  actual  starvation.  I  had 
some  conversation  with  one  such,  a  stalv.':\rt  youth  lately  discharged  from  the 
militia,  and  unable  to  get  work. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  pitifully,  "  I  don't  know  my  way  about  like  most  of  the 
London  fellows.  I'm  so  green,  and  don't  know  'low  to  pick  up  jobs  like  they 
do.  I've  been  walking  the  streets  almost  day  and  night  these  two  weeks  and 
can't  get  work.  I've  got  the  strength,  though  I  £.iian't  have  it  long  at  this  rate. 
I  only  want  a  job.  This  is  the  third  night  running  that  I've  walked  the  streets 
all  night ;  the  only  money  I  get  is  by  minding  blacking-boys'  boxes  while  they 
go  into  Lockhart's  for  their  dinner.  I  got  a  penny  yesterday  at  it,  and  tv/opence 
for  carrying  a  parcel,  and  to-day  I've  had  a  penny.  Bought  a  ha'porth  of  bread 
and  a  ha'penny  mug  of  tea." 

Poor  lad  1  probably  he  would  soon  get  into  thieves'  company,  and  sink  into 
the  depths,  for  there  is  no  other  means  of  living  for  many  like  him  ;  it  is  starve 
or  steal,  even  for  the  young.  There  are  gangs  of  lad  thieves  in  the  low 
Whitechapel  lodging-houses,  varying  in  age  from  thirteen  to  fifteen,  who  live 
by  thieving  eatables  and  other  easily  obtained  goods  from  shop  fronts. 

In  addition  to  the  Embankment,  al  fresco  lodgings  are  found  in  the  seats 
outside  Spitalfields  Church,  and  many  homeless  wanderers  have  their  own  little 


TWELVE    STORIES    FROM    REAL    LIFE. 


27 


)ney  for 
to-day. 
;   I  had 
minding 
h,  that's 
any  and 
ary  with 
in  what's 
o  know  ? 
I.      I'm  a 
he's  only 
hts,  seats 
;e  women 
nd  there's 
We're  too 

i  up  from 
id  to  have 
truss  for  a 
n,  winding 

the  streets 
irill  bring  a 
Jon.  I  had 
d  from  the 

nost  of  the 
)S  like  they 
weeks  and 
it  this  rate, 
the  streets 
while  they 
id  tv;opence 
rth  of  bread 

nd  sink  into 
it  is  starve 
in  the  low 

;en,  who  live 

Its. 

in  the  seats 

leir  own  little 


nooks  and  corners  of  resort  in  many  sheltered  yards,  vans,  etc.,  all  over  London. 
Two  poor  women  I  observed  making  their  home  in  a  s'lop  door-way  in  Liverpool 
Street.  Thus  they  manage  in  the  summer ;  what  i'^'s  like  in  winter  time  is 
terrible  to  think  of.  In  many  cases  it  means  the  pauper's  grave,  as  in  the  case 
of  a  young  woman  who  was  wont  to  sleep  in  a  van  in  Bedfordbury.  Some  men 
who  were  aware  of  her  practice  surprised  her  by  dashing  a  bucket  of  water  on 
her.  The  blow  to  her  weak  system  caused  illness,  and  the  inevitable  sequel  — 
a  coroner's  jury  came  to  the  conclusion  *^'  ^t  the  water  only  hastened  her  deatli, 
which  was  due,  in  plain  English,  to    tarvation. 

The  following  are  some  statements  taken  down  by  the  same  Officer 
from  twelve  men  whom  he  found  sleeping  on  llie  Embankment  on 
the  nights  of  June  13th  and  14th,  1890: — 

No.  I.  "I've  slept  here  two  nights;  I 'm  a  confectioner  by  trade;  I  come 
from  Dartford.  I  got  turned  off  because  I  m  getting  elderly.  They  can  get 
young  men  cheaper,  and  I  iiave  the  rheumatism  so  bad.  I  ve  earned  notliing 
these  two  days;  I  thought  I  could  get  a  job  at  Woolwich,  so  I  walked  there, 
but  could  get  nothing.  I  found  a  bit  of  bread  in  the  road  wrapped  up  in  a  bit 
of  newspaper.  That  did  me  for  yesterday.  I  had  a  bit  of  bread  and  butter 
to-day.  I  'm  54  years  old.  When  it's  wet  we  stand  about  all  night  under  the  arches." 

No.  2.  "  Been  sleeping  out  three  weeks  all  but  one  night ;  do  odd  jobs, 
mind  horses,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  Earned  nothing  to-day,  or  shouldn't  be 
here.  Have  had  a  penorth  of  bread  to-day.  That 's  all.  Yesterday  had  some 
pieces  given  to  me  at  a  cook-shop.  T\^  ^  days  last  week  had  nothing  at  all 
from  morning  till  night.  By  trade  I'm  a  feather-bed  dresser,  but  it 's  gone  out 
of  fashion,  and  besides  that,  I  've  a  cataract  in  one  eye,  and  have  lost  the  sight 
of  it  completely.  I  'm  a  widower,  have  one  child,  a  soldier,  at  Dover.  My  last 
regular  work  was  eight  months  ago,  but  the  firm  broke.  Been  doing  odd  jobs 
since." 

No.  3.  *' I 'm  a  tailor;  have  slept  here  four  nights  unning.  Can't  get  work. 
Been  out  of  a  job  three  weeks.  If  I  can  muster  cash  i  sleep  at  a  lodging-house 
in  Vere  Street,  Clare  Market.  It  was  very  wet  last  n  ght.  I  left  these  seats  and 
went  to  Covent  Garden  Market  and  slept  under  jover.  There  were  about 
thirty  of  us.  The  police  moved  us  on,  but  we  went  back  as  soon  as  they  had 
gone.  I  've  had  a  pen'orth  of  bread  and  pen'orth  of  soup  during  tlie  last  two 
days — often  goes  without  altogether.  There  are  women  sleep  out  here.  They 
are  decent  people,  mostly  charwomen  and  such  like  who  can  t  get  work." 

No.  4.  Elderly  man  ;  trembles  visibly  with  e-xcitement  at  mention  of  work  ; 
produces  a  card  carefully  wrapped  in  old  newspaper,  to  the  effect  that 
Mr.  J.  R.  is  a  member  of  the  Trade  Protection  League.  He  is  a  waterside 
labourer;  last  job  at  that  was  a  fortnight  since.  Has  earned  nothing  for  five 
days.    Had  a  bit  of  bread  this  morning,  but  not  a  scrap  since.     Had  a  cup  of 


28 


THE    HOMELESS. 


tea  and  two  slices  of  bread  yesterday,  and  the  same  the  day  before ;  the  deputy 
at  a  lodging  house  gave  it  to  him.  He  is  fifty  years  old,  and  is  still  damp  from 
sleeping  out  in  the  wet  last  night. 

No.  5.  Sawyer  by  trade,  machinery  cut  him  out.  Had  a  job,  haymaking 
near  Uxbridge.  Had  been  on  same  job  lately  for  a  month ;  got  2s.  6d. 
a  day.  (Probably  spent  it  in  drink,  seems  a  very  doubtful  worker.)  Has  been 
odd  jobbing  a  long  time,  earned  2d.  to-day,  bought  a  pen'orth  of  tea  and  ditto  of 
sugar  (produces  same  from  pocket)  but  can't  get  any  place  to  make  the  tea ;  was 
hoping  to  get  to  a  lodging  house  where  he  could  borrow  a  teapot,  but  had  no 
money.  Earned  nothing  yesterday,  slept  at  a  casual  ward  ;  very  poor  place,  get 
insufficient  food,  considering  the  labour.  Six  ounces  of  bread  and  a  pint  of 
skilly  for  breakfast,  one  ounce  of  cheese  and  six  or  seven  ounces  of  bread  for 
dinner  (bread  cut  by  guess).  Tea  same  as  breakfast, — no  supper.  Foi-  this  you 
have  to  break  10  cwt.  of  stones,  or  pick  4  lbs.  of  oakum. 

Number  6.  Had  slept  out  four  nights  running.  Was  a  distiller  by  trade ; 
been  out  four  months ;  unwilling  to  enter  into  details  of  leaving,  but  it  was  his 
own  fault.  (Very  likely ;  a  heavy,  thick,  stubborn,  and  senseless-looking 
fellow,  six  feet  high,  thick  neck,  strong  limbs,  evidently  destitute  of  ability.) 
Does  odd  jobs ;  earned  3d.  for  minding  a  horse,  bought  a  cup  of  coffee  and 
pen'orth  of  bread  and  butter.  Has  no  money  now.  Slept  under  Waterloo 
Bridge  last  night. 

No.  7.  Good-natured  looking  man ;  one  who  would  suffer  and  say  nothing ; 
clothes  shining  with  age,  grease,  and  dirt ;  they  hang  on  Lis  joints  as  on  pegs  ; 
awful  rags !  I  saw  hira  endeavouring  to  walk.  He  lifted  his  feet  very  slowly 
and  put  them  down  carefully  in  evident  pain.  His  legs  are  bad ;  been  in 
infirmary  several  times  wiuh  them.  His  uncle  and  grandfather  were  clergymen  ; 
both  dead  now.  He  was  once  in  a  good  position  in  a  money  office,  and  after- 
wards in  the  London  and  County  Bank  for  nine  years.  Then  he  we.it  with  an 
auctioneer  who  broke,  and  he  was  left  ill,  old,  and  without  any  trade.  "  A 
clerk's  place,"  says  he,  "  is  never  worth  having,  because  there  are  so  many  of 
them,  and  once  out  you  can  only  get  another  place  with  difficulty.  I  have  a 
brother-in-law  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  but  he  won't  own  me.  Look  at  my 
clothes  ?    Is  it  likely  ?  " 

No.  8.  Slept  here  four  nights  running.  Is  a  builder's  labourer  by  trade,  that 
is,  a  handy-man.  Had  a  settled  job  for  a  few  weeks  which  expired  three  weeks 
since.  Has  earned  nothing  for  nine  days.  Then  helped  wash  down  a  shop 
front  and  got  2s.  6d.  for  it.  Does  anything  he  can  get.  Is  46  years  old.  Earns 
about  2d.  or  3d.  a  day  at  horse  minding.  A  cup  of  tea  ind  a  bit  of  bread 
yesterday,  and  same  to-day,  is  all  he  has  had. 

No.  9.  A  plumber's  labourer  (all  these  men  who  are  somebody's  "  labourers  " 
are  poor  samples  of  humanity,  evidently  lacking  in  grit,  and  destitute  of 
ability  to  do  any  work  which   would  mean  decent  wages).    Judging   from 


THE    NOMADS   OF  CIVILI2ATlOi>i. 


2d 


appearances,  they  will  do  nothing  well.  They  are  a  kind  of  automaton,  with 
the  machinery  rusty;  slow,  dull,  and  mcapable.  The  man  of  ordinary 
intelligence  leaves  them  in  the  rear.  They  could  doubtless  earn  more  even 
at  odd  jobs,  but  lack  the  energy.  Of  course,  this  means  little  food, 
exposure  to  weather,  and  increased  incapability  day  by  day.  ("From 
him  that  hath  not,"  etc.)  Out  of  work  through  slackness,  does  odd  jobs ;  slept 
here  three  nights  running.  Is  a  dock  labourer  when  he  can  get  work.  Has  6d. 
an  hour ;  works  so  many  hours,  according  as  he  is  wanted.  Gets  2S.,  3s.,  or 
4s.  6d.  a  day.  Has  to  work  very  hard  for  it.  Casual  ward  life  is  also  very  hard, 
he  says,  for  those  who  are  not  used  to  it,  and  there  is  not  enough  to  eat.  Has 
had  to-day  a  pen'orth  of  bread,  for  minding  a  cab.  Yesterday  he  spent  3|d.  on 
a  breakfast,  and  that  lasted  him  all  day.    Age  25. 

No.  10.  Been  out  of  work  a  month.  Carman  by  trade.  Arm  withered,  and 
cannot  do  work  properly.  Has  slept  here  all  the  week ;  got  an  awful  cold 
through  the  wet.  Lives  at  odd  jobs  (they  all  do).  Got  sixpence  yesterday  for 
minding  a  cab  and  carrying  a  couple  of  parcels.  Earned  nothing  to-day,  but 
had  one  good  meal ;  a  lady  gave  it  him.  Has  been  walking  about  all  day  look- 
ing for  work,  and  is  tired  out. 

No.  II.  Youth,  aged  16.  Sad  case;  Londoner.  Works  at  odd  jobs  and 
matches  selling.  Has  taken  3d.  to-day,  i.e.,  net  profit  l^d.  Has  Bve boxes  still. 
Has  slept  here  every  night  for  a  month.  Before  that  slept  in  Covent  Garden 
Market  or  on  doorsteps.  Been  sleeping  out  six  months,  since  he  left  Feltham 
Industrial  School.  Was  sent  there  foir  playing  truant.  Has  had  one  bit  of  bread 
to-day ;  yesterday  had  only  some  gooseberries  and  cherries,  i.e.,  bad  ones  that 
had  been  thrown  away.  Mother  is  alive.  She  "  chucked  him  out "  when  he 
returned  home  on  leaving  Feltham  because  he  could'nt  find  her  money  for  drink. 

No.  12.  Old  man',  age  67.  Seems  to  take  rather  a  humorous  view  of  the 
position.  Kind  of  Mark  Tapley.  Says  he  can't  say  he  does  like  it,  but  then  he 
must  like  it  I  Ha,  ha !  Is  a  slater  by  trade.  Been  out  of  work  some  time ; 
younger  men  naturally  get  the  work.  Gets  a  bit  of  bricklaying  sometimes ;  can 
turn  '.lis  hand  to  anything.  Goes  miles  and  gets  nothing.  £arned;One  and  two- 
pence this  week  ai  holding  horses.  Finds  it  hard,  certainly.  Used  to  care  once, 
and  get  down-he;.rted,  but  that's  no  good ;  don't  trouble  now.  Had  a  bit  of 
bread  and  butt''  1-  and  cup  of  coffee  to-day.  Health  is  awful  bad,  not  half  the 
size  he  v.  ab ;  exposure  and  want  of  food  is  the  cause ;  got  wet  last  night,  and  is 
very  stiiT  in  consequence.  Has  been  walking  about  since  it  was  light,  that  is 
3  a.m.  Was  so  cold  and  wet  and  weak,  scarcely  knew  what  to  •'o.  Walked  to 
Hyde  Park,  and  got  a  little  sleep  there  on  a  dry  seat  as  soon  as  the .     k  opened. 

These  are  fairly  typical  cases  of  the  men  who  are  now  wandering 
homeless  through  the  streets.  That  is  the  way  in  which  the  nomads 
of  civilization  arc  constantly  being  recruited  from  above. 


30 


THE    HOMEiesS. 


'A 


Such  are  the  stories  gatliered  at  random  one  Midsummer  night 
this  year  under  the  shade  of  the  plane  trees  of  the  Embankment.  A 
month  later,  when  one  of  my  staff  took  the  census  of  the  sleepers 
out  of  doors  along  the  line  of  the  Thames  from  Blackfriars  to 
Westminster,  he  found  three  hundred  and  sixty-eight  persons 
sleeping  in  the  open  air.  Of  these,  two  hundred  and  seventy  were 
on  the  Embankment  proper,  and  ninety-eight  in  and  about  Covent 
Garden  Market,  while  the  recesses  of  Waterloo  and  Blackfriars 
Bridges  were  full  of  human  misery. 

This,  be  it  remembered,  was  not  during  a  season  of  bad  trade. 
The  revival  of  business  has  been  attested  on  all  hands,  notably  by 
the  barometer  of  strong  drink.  England  is  prosperous  enough  to 
drink  rum  in  quantities  which  appall  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer, 
but  she  is  not  prosperous  enough  to  provide  other  shelter  than  the 
midnight  sky  for  these  poor  outcasts  on  the  Embankment. 

To  very  many  even  of  those  who  live  in  London  it  may  be  news 
that  there  are  so  many  hundreds  who  sleep  out  of  doors  every  night. 
There  are  comparatively  few  people  stirring  after  midnight,  and  when 
we  are  snugly  tucked  into  our  own  beds  we  are  apt  to  forget  the 
multitude  outside  in  the  rain  and  the  storm  who  are  shivering  the 
long  hours  through  on  the  hard  stone  seats  in  the  open  or  under  the 
arches  of  the  railway.  These  homeless,  hungry  people  are,  however, 
there,  but  being  broken-spirited  folk  for  the  most  part  they  seldom 
make  their  voices  audible  in  the  ears  of  their  neighbours.  Now  and 
again,  however,  a  harsh  cry  from  the  depths  is  heard  for  a  moment, 
jarring  rudely  upon  the  ear  and  then  all  is  still.  The  inarticulate 
classes  speak  as  seldom  as  Balaam's  ass.  But  they  sometimes  find  a 
voice.  Here  for  instance  is  one  such  case  which  impressed  me  much. 
It  was  reported  in  one  of  the  Liverpool  papers  some  time  back.  The 
speaker  was  haranguing  a  small  knot  of  twenty  or  thirty  men : — 

"  My  lads,"  he  commenced,  with  one  hand  in  the  breast  of  his 
ragged  vest,  and  the  other,  as  usual,  plucking  nervously  at  his  beard, 
"  This  kind  o'  work  can't  last  for  ever."  (Deep  and  earnest  ex- 
•  clamations,  "  It  can't !  It  shan't")  "Well,  boys,"  continued  the  speaker, 
"  Somebody'll  have  to  find  a  road  out  o'  this.  What  we  want  is  work, 
not  work'us  bounty,  though  the  parish  has  been  busy  enough 
amongst  us  lately,  God  knows  !  What  we  want  is  honest  work. 
(Hear,  hear.)  Now,  what  I  propose  is  that  each  of  you  gets  fifty 
mates  to  join  you  ;  that'll  make  about  I,2CX)  starving  chaps — " 
"And  then?"  asked  several  very  gaunt  and  hungry-looking  men 


A    LAZARUS    PROCESSION    OF  DESPAIR. 


31 


excitedly.  "  Why,  then,"  continued  the  leader.  "  Why,  then," 
interrupted  a  cadaverous-looking  man  from  the  farther  and  darkest 

end  of  the  cellar,  "  of  course  we'll  make  a London  job  of  it,  eh  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  hastily  interposed  my  friend,  and  holding  up  his  hands 
deprecatingly,  "  we'll  go  peaceably  about  it  chaps ;  we'll  '^yj  in  a 
body  to  the  Town  Hall,  and  show  our  poverty,  and  ask  for  work. 
We'll  take  the  women  and  children  with  us  too."  ("Too  ragged! 
Too  starved  !  They  can't  walk  it ! ")  "  The  women's  rags  is  no 
disgrace,  the  staggerin'  children  '11  show  what  we  come  to.  Let's 
go  a  thousand  strong,  and  ask  for  work  and  bread  ! " 

Three  years  ago,  in  London,  there  were  some  such  processions. 
Church  parades  to  the  Abbey  and  St.  Paul's,  bivouacs  in  Trafalgar 
Square,  etc.  But  Lazarus  showed  his  rags  and  his  sores  too  con- 
spicuously for  the  convenience  of  Dives,  and  was  summarily  dealt 
with  in  the  name  of  law  and  order.  But  as  we  have  Lord 
Mayor's  Days,  when  all  the  well-fed  fur-clad  City  Fathers  go  in  State 
Coachcj  through  the  town,  why  should  we  not  have  a  Lazarus 
Day,  in  which  the  starving  Out-of-Wo:  ks,  and  the  sweated  half- 
starved  "  in-works "  of  London  should  crawl  in  their  tattered 
raggedness,  with  their  gaunt,  hungry  faces,  and  emaciated  wives  and 
children,  a  Procession  of  Despair  through  the  main  thoroughfares, 
past  the  massive  houses  and  princely  palaces  of  luxurious  London  ? 

For  these  men  are  gradually,  but  surely,  being  sucked  down  into  the 
quicksand  of  modern  life.  They  stretch  out  their  grimy  hands  to  us 
in  vain  appeal,  not  for  charity,  but  for  work. 

Work,  work  !  it  is  always  work  that  they  ask.  The  Divine  curse 
is  to  them  the  most  blessed  of  benedictions.  "In  the  sweat  of  thy 
brow  thou  shalt  eat  thy  bread,"  but  alas  for  ther,e  forlorn  sons  of 
Adam,  they  fail  to  find  the  bread  to  eat,  for  Society  has  no  work  for 
them  to  do.  They  have  not  even  leave  to  sweat.  As  well  as  discuss- 
ing how  these  poor  wanderers  should  in  the  second  Aoam  "all  be  made 
alive,"  ought  we  not  to  put  forth  some  effort  to  effect  their  restoration 
to  that  share  in  the  heritage  of  labour  which  is  theirs  by  right  of 
descent  from  the  first  Adam  ? 


{"'* 


Ml 


I 


CHAPTER  IV. 
THE  OUT-OF-WORKS. 

There  is  hardly  any  more  pathetic  figure  than  that  of  the  strong, 
able  worker  crying  plaintively  in  the  midst  of  our  palaces  and  churches, 
not  for  charity,  but  for  work,  asking  only  to  be  allowed  the  privilege 
of  perpetual  hard  labour,  that  thereby  he  may  earn  wherewith  to  fill 
his  empty  belly  and  silence  the  cry  of  his  children  for  food.  Crying 
for  it  and  not  getting  it,  seeking  for  labour  as  lost  treasure  and 
finding  it  not,  until  at  last,  all  spirit  and  vigour  worn  out  in  the 
weary  quest,  the  once  willing  worker  becomes  a  broken-down 
drudge,  sodden  with  wretchedness  and  despairing  of  all  help  in  this 
world  or  in  that  which  is  to  come.  Our  organisation  of  industry 
certainly  leaves  much  to  be  desired.  A  problem  which  even  slave 
owners  have  solved  ought  not  to  be  abandoned  as  insoluble  by  the 
Christian  civilisation  of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

I  have  already  given  a  few  life  stories  taken  down  from  the  lips 
of  those  who  were  found  homeless  on  the  Embankment  which  suggest 
somewhat  of  the  hardships  and  the  misery  of  the  fruitless  search  for 
work.  But  what  a  volume  of  dull,  squalid  horror — a  horror  of  great 
darkness  gradually  obscuring  all  the  light  of  day  from  the  life  of 
the  sufferer — might  be  wrflten  from  tlie  simple  prosaic  experiences 
of  the  ragged  fellows  whom  you  meet  every  day  in  the  street.  These 
men,  whose  labour  is  their  only  capital,  are  allowed,  nay  compelled, 
to  waste  day  after  day  by  the  want  of  any  means  of  employment,  and 
then  when  they  have  seen  days  and  weeks  roll  by  during  which 
their  capital  has  been  wasted  by  pounds  and  pounds,  they  are 
lectured  for  not  saving  the  pence.  Wlicn  a  lich  man  cannot  employ 
his  capital  he  puts  it  out  at  interest,  but  the  bank  for  the  labour 
capital  of  the  poor  man  has  yet  to  be  invented.  Yet  it  might  be 
worth  while  inventing  one.  A  man's  labour  is  not  only  his  capital, 
but  his  life.    When  it  passes  it  returns  never  more.    To  utilise  it,  to 


THE    HUNt    FOR   WORK. 


dd 


;  strong, 
:hurches, 
privilege 
■ith  to  fill 
Crying 
sure  and 
ut  in  the 
ien-down 
Ip  in  this 
industry 
ven  slave 
lie  by  the 

1  the  lips 
:h  suggest 
search  for 
)r  of  great 
the  life  of 
xperiences 
et.  These 
Icompelled, 
mcnt,  and 
ing  which 

they  are 
lot  employ 
the  labour 

might  be 
his  capital, 
ililise  it,  to 


prevent  its  wasteful  squandering,  to  enable  the  poor  man  to  bank  it 
up  for  use  hereafter,  this  surely  is  one  of  the  most  urgent  tasks 
before  civilisation. 

Of  all  heart-brea'ang  toil  the  hunt  for  work  is  surely  the  worst. 
Yet  at  any  momen',  let  a  workman  lose  his  present  situation,  and  he 
is  compelled  to  begm  anew  the  dreary  round  of  fruitless  calls.  Here 
is  the  story  of  one  ^mong  thousands  of  the  nomads,  taken  down 
from  his  own  lips,  of  one  who  was  driven  by  sheer  hunger  into 
crime. 

A  bright  Spring  morning  found  me  landed  from  a  western  colony.  Fourteen 
years  had  passed  since  I  embarked  from  the  same  spot.  They  v/ere  fourteen 
years,  as  far  as  results  were  concerned,'  of  non-success,  i  nd  here  I  was  again 
in  my  own  land,  a  stranger,  wit'i  a  new  career  to  carve  for  myself  and  the 
battle  of  life  to  fight  over  again. 

My  first  thought  was  work.  Nevei  before  had  I  felt  more  eager  for  a  down- 
right good  chance  to  win  my  way  by  hwiiest  toil ;  but  where  was  I  to  find  work  ? 
With  firm  determination  I  started  in  search.  One  day  passed  without  success, 
and  another,  and  another,  but  the  thought  cheered  me,  "  Better  luck  to-morrow." 
It  has  been  said,  "  Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast."  In  my  case  it 
was  to  be  severely  tested.  Days  soon  ran  into  weeks,  and  still  I  was  on  the 
trail  patiently  and  hopefully.  Courtesy  nnd  politeness  so  often  met  me  in  my 
enquiries  for  employment  that  I  often  wished  they  would  kick  me  out,  and  so 
vary  the  monotony  of  the  sickly  veneer  of  consideration  that  so  thinly  overlaid 
the  indifference  and  the  absolute  unconcern  they  had  to  my  needs.  A  few  cut  up 
rough  and  said,  "  No ;  we  don't  want  you."  "  Please  don't  trouble  us  again  (this 
after  the  second  visit).  We  have  no  vacancy ;  and  if  we  had,  we  have  plenty  of 
people  on  hand  to  fill  it." 

Who  can  express  the  feeling  that  comes  over  one  when  the  fact  begins  to 
dawn  that  the  search  for  work  is  a  failure  ?  All  my  hopes  and  prospects 
seemed  to  have  turned  out  false.  Helplessness,  I  had  often  heard  of  it,  had 
often  talked  about  it,  thought  I  knew  all  about  it.  Yes  I  in  others,  but  now  I 
began  to  understand  it  for  myself.  Gradually  my  personal  appearance  faded. 
My  once  faultless  linen  became  unkempt  and  unclean.  Down  further  and 
further  went  the  heels  t  k  my  shoes,  and  I  drifted  into  thrt  distressing  condition, 
"  shabby  gentility."  If  tlje  odds  were  against  me  before,  how  much  more  so 
now,  seeing  that  I  was  too  shabby  even  to  command  attention,  much  less  a 
reply  to  my  er'juiry  for  work. 

Hunger  now  began  to  do  its  work,  and  I  drifted  to  the  dock  gates,  but  what 
chance  had  I  among  the  hungry  giants  there?  And  so  down  the  stream  I 
drifted  until  "  Grim  Want "  brought  me  to  the  last  shilling,  the  last  lodging,  and 
the  last  meal.    What  shall  l  do  ?    Where  shall  I  go  ?    I  tried  to  think.     Must 

C 


■  III 

I 


34 


THE   OUT-OF-WORKS. 


(  . 


■i  ! 


!!< 


^r|i 


I  starve  '.■'  Surely  there  must  be  some  door  still  open  for  honest  willing 
endeavour,  but  where  ?  What  can  I  do  ?  "  Drink,"  said  the  Tempter ;  but  to 
ilriiik  to  drunkenness  needs  cash,  and  oblivion  by  liquor  demands  an  equivalent 
in  the  currency. 

Starve  or  steal.  "  You  must  do  one  or  the  other,"  said  the  Tempter.  But  I 
recoiled  from  being  a  Thief.  "  Why  be  so  particular  ?  "  says  the  Tempter  again. 
"  You  are  down  now,  who  will  trouble  about  you  ?  Why  trouble  about 
yourself?  The  choice  is  between  starving  and  stealing."  And  I  struggled 
until  hunger  st     .  ..     judgmert,  and  then  I  became  a  Thief 

No  one  can  pretend  that  it  was  an  idle  fear  of  death  by  starvation 
which  drove  this  poor  fellow  to  steal.  Deaths  from  actual  hunger  are 
more  common  than  is  generally  supposed.  Last  year,  a  man,  whose 
name  v;as  never  known,  was  walking  through  St.  ames's  Park,  when 
three  of  our  Shelter  men  saw  hin\  suddenly  stuniWe  and  fall.  They 
thought  he  was  d*  unk,  but  found  he  had  fainted.  They  carried  him 
to  the  bridt^c  ar  a  gave  him  to  the  police.  They  took  him  to  St. 
George's  Hospi.al,  where  he  died.  It  appeared  that  he  had,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  tale,  walked  up  from  Liverpool,  and  had  been 
without  foou  for  five  days.  The  doctor,  however,  said  he  had  gone 
longer  than  that.  The  jury  returned  a  verdict  of  "  Death  from 
Starvation." 

Without  food  for  five  days  or  longer !  Who  that  has  experienced 
the  sinking  sensation  that  is  felt  when  even  a  single  meal  has  been 
sacrificed  may  form  some  idea  of  what  kind  of  slow  torture  killed  that 
man! 

In  1888  the  average  daily  number  of  unemployed  in  London  was 
estimated  by  the  Mansion  House  Committee  at  20,000.  This  vast 
"sservoir  of  unemployed  labour  is  the  bane  of  all  efforts  to  raise  the 
scale  of  living,  to  improve  the  condition  of  labour.  Men  hungering  to 
death  for  lack  of  opportunity  to  eai n  a  crust  are  the  materials  from 
which  "blacklegs"  are  made,  by  whose  ?'d  the  labourer  is  onstantly 
defeated  in  his  attempts  to  improve  his  condition. 

This  is  the  problem  that  underlies  all  questions  of  Trades  Unionism, 
and  all  Schemes  for  the  Improvement  of  the  Condition  of  the  Industrial 
Army.  To  rear  any  stable  edifi  ;e  that  will  not  perish  when  the  first 
storm  rises  and  the  first  hurricane  blows,  it  must  'le  built  not  upon 
sand,  but  upon  a  rock.  And  the  'vorst  of  all  existing  Schemes  for 
social  betterment  by  organisaiion  of  the  skilled  workers  and  the  like 
is  that  they  are  /ounded,  no'  upon  "  rock,"  nor  even  upon  "  sand," 
but  upon  the  bottomless  bog  of  the  stratum  of  the  Workless.     It  is 


iV" 


•  \  ^ 


AN    IMMENSE    PROBLEM. 


35 


it  wilting 
:r ;  but  to 
:quivalent 

r.     But  I 

iter  again. 

ble    about 

struggled 

tarvation 
linger  are 
n,  whose 
rk,  when 
They 
rried  him 
im  to  St. 
had,  ac- 
had  been 
had  gone 
:ath   from 

perienced 

has  been 

killed  that 

)ndon  was 
This  vast 
)  raise  the 
ngering  to 
rials  from 
onstantly 

Unionism, 
;  Industrial 
;n  the  first 
not  upon 
chemes  for 
id  the  like 
m  "  sand," 
ess.     It  is 


here  where  we  must  begin.  The  regimentation  of  industrial  workers 
who  have  got  regular  work  is  not  so  very  difiicult.  That  can  be 
done,  and  is  being  done,  by  themselves.  The  problem  that  we  have 
to  face  is  the  regimentation,  the  organisation,  of  those  who  have  not 
got  work,  or  who  have  only  irregular  work,  and  who  from  sheer 
pressure  of  absolute  starvation  are  driven  irresistibly  into  cut-throat 
competition  with  their  better  employed  brothers  and  sisters.  Skin 
for  skin,  all  that  a  man  hath,  will  he  give  for  his  life  ;  much  more, 
then,  will  those  who  experimentally  know  not  God  give  all  that  they 
might  hope  hereafter  to  have — in  this  world  or  in  the  world  to  come. 

There  is  no  gainsaying  the  immensity  of  the  problem.  It  is 
appalling  enough  to  make  us  despair.  But  those  who  do  not  put 
their  trust  in  man  alone,  but  in  One  who  is  Almighty,  have  no  right 
to  despair.  To  despair  is  to  lose  faith  ;  to  despair  is  to  forget  God. 
Without  God  we  can  do  nothing  in  this  frightful  chaos  of  human 
misery.  But  with  God  we  can  do  all  things,  and  in  the  faith  that  He 
has  made  in  His  image  all  the  children  of  men  we  face  even  this 
hideous  wreckage  of  humanity  with  a  cheerful  confidence  that  if  we 
are  but  faithful  to  our  own  high  calling  He  will  not  fail  to  open  up  a 
v/ay  of  deliverance. 

I  have  nothing  to  say  against  those  who  are  endeavouring  to  op.^n 
up  a  way  of  escape  without  any  consciousness  of  God's  help.  For 
them  I  feel  only  sympathy  and  compassion.  In  so  far  as  they  are 
endeavouring  to  give  bread  to  the  hungry,  clothing  to  the  naked,  and 
above  all,  wc  k  to  the  workless,  they  are  to  that  extent  endeavouring 
to  do  the  will  of  our  Father  which  is  in  Heaven,  and  woe  be  unto  all 
those  who  say  them  nay !  But  to  be  orphaned  of  all  sense  of  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  is  surely  not  a  secret  source  of  strength.  It  is 
in  most  cases — it  would  be  in  my  own — the  secret  of  paralysis.  If  I 
did  not  feel  my  Father's  hand  in  the  darkness,  and  hear  His  voice  in 
the  silence  of  the  night  watchos  bidding  me  put  my  hand  to  this 
thing,  I  would  shrink  back  dismayed  ; — but  as  it  is  I  dare  not. 

How  many  are  there  who  have  made  similar  attempts  and  have  failed, 
and  we  have  heard  of  them  no  more  !  Yet  none  of  them  proposed  to 
deal  with  more  than  the  mere  fringe cf  the  evil  which,  God  helping  me,  I 
will  try  to  face  iri  all  its  immensity.  Most  Schemes  that  are  put 
forward  for  the  Improvement  of  the  Circumstances  of  the 
People  are  either  avow°dly  or  actually  limited  to  those  whose 
condition  least  needs  amtMoration.  The  Utopians,  the  econo- 
mists,   and    most     of    the    philanthropists    propound     remedies, 


-  r-v 


36 


THE    OUT-OF-WORKS. 


Vi\ 


I 


I' 


which,  if  adopted  to-morrow,  would  only  ailfct  the  aristo- 
cracy of  the  miserable.  It  is  the  thrifty,  the  industrious,  the  sober, 
the  thoughtful  who  can  take  advantage  of  these  plans.  But 
the  thrifty,  the  industrious,  the  sober,  and  the  thoughtful  are  already 
very  well  able  for  the  most  part  to  take  care  of  themselves.  No  one 
will  ever  make  even  a  visible  dint  on  the  Morass  of  Squalor  who 
does  pot  deal  with  the  improvident,  the  lazy,  lilie  vicious,  and  the 
criminal.  The  Scheme  of  Social  Salvation  is  not  worth  discussion 
which  is  not  as  wide  as  the  Scheme  of  Eternal  Salvation  set  forth  in 
the  Gospel.  The  Glad  Tidings  must  be  to  every  creature,  not  merely 
to  an  elect  few  who  are  to  be  saved  while  the  mass  of  their  fellows 
are  predestined  to  a  temporal  damnation.  We  have  had  this  doctrine 
of  an  inhuman  cast-iron  pseudo-political  economy  too  long 
enthroned  amongst  us.  It  is  now  time  to  fling  down  the  false  idol, 
and  proclaim  a  Temporal  Salvation  as  full,  free,  and  universal,  and 
with  no  other  limitations  than  the  "  Whosoever  will,"  of  the  Gospel. 

To  attempt  to  save  the  Lost,  we  must  accept  no  limitations  to 
human  brotherhood.  If  the  Scheme  which  I  set  forth  in  these  and 
the  following  pages  is  not  applicable  to  the  Thief,  the  Harlot,  the 
Drunkard,  and  the  Sluggard,  it  may  as  well  be  dismissed  without 
ceremony.  As  Christ  came  to  call  not  the  saints  but  sinners  to 
repentance,  so  the  New  Message  of  Temporal  Salvation,  of  salvation 
from  pinching  poverty,  from  rags  and  misery,  must  be  offered  to  all. 
They  may  reject  it,  of  course.  But  we  who  call  ourselves  by  the 
name  of  Christ  are  not  worthy  to  profess  to  be  His  disciples  until  we 
ho.  set  an  open  door  before  the  least  and  worst  of  these 
who  are  now  apparently  imprisoned  for  lii'e  in  a  horrible 
dungeon  of  misery  and  despair.  The  responsibility  for  its  rejection 
must  be  theirs,  not  ours.  We  u.l  know  the  prayer,  "  Give  me  neither 
poverty  nor  riches,  feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me  " — and  lor 
every  child  of  man  on  this  planet,  thank  God  the  prayer  of  Agur, 
the  son  of  Jakeh,  may  be  fulfilled. 

At  present  how  far  it  is  from  being  realised  may  be  seen  by  anyone 
who  will  take  the  trouble  to  go  down  to  the  docks  and  see  the  struggle 
for  work.    Here  is  a  sketch  of  what  was  found  there  this  summer : — 

London  Docks,  7.25  a.m.  The  three  pairs  of  huge  wooden  doors  are  closed. 
Leaning  against  them,  and  standing  about,  there  are  perhaps  a  couple  of 
hundred  men.  The  public  house  opposite  is  full,  doing  a  heavy  trade.  All 
along  the  road  are  groups  of  men,  and  from  each  direction  a  steady  stream 
increases  tiie  crowd  at  the  gate. 


fT    THE    DOCK   GATES. 


37 


7.30.  Doors  open,  there  is  a  general  rush  to  the  interior.  Everybody 
marches  about  a  liundred  yards  along  to  tlie  iron  barrier— a  temporary  chain 
affair,  guarded  by  tiie  dock  police.  Those  men  who  have  previously  (i.e.,  night 
before)  been  ingaf^od,  show  their  ticket  and  pass  through,  about  six  hundred. 
The  rest— sonic  live  hundred— stand  behind  the  barrier,  patiently  waiting  the 
chance  of  a  job,  but  le.'ss  t/iun  twenty  of  these  get  engaged.  They  are  taken  on 
by  a  foreman  who  appears  next  the  barrier  and  proceeds  to  \WV  his  men.  No 
sooner  is  the  foreman  seen,  than  there  is  a  wild  rush  to  the  spot  and  a  sharp, 
mad  fight  to  "  catch  his  eye."  The  men  picked  out,  pass  the  barrier,  and  the 
excitement  dies  away  until  anotiier  lot  ol  men  are  wanted. 

They  wait  until  eight  o'clock  strikes,  which  is  tiie  signal  to  withdraw. 
The  barrier  is  taken  down  and  all  those  hundreds  of  men,  wearily  disperse  to 
"  find  a  job."  Five  hundred  apiilicaiits,  twenty  acceptances  !  No  wonder  one 
tired-out  looking  individual  ejaculates,  "  Oh  dear,  Oh  dear !  Whatever  shall  I 
do  ?  "  A  few  hang  about  until  mid-day  on  the  slender  chance  of  getting  taken 
on  then  for  half  a  day. 

Ask  the  men  and  they  will  tell  you  something  like  the  following 
story,  which  gives  the  simple  experiences  of  a  dock  labourer. 

R.  P.  said : — "  I  was  in  regular  work  at  the  South  West  India  Docks 
before  the  strike.  We  got  5d.  an  hour.  Start  work  8  a.m.  summer  and  9  a.m. 
winter.  Often  there  would  be  five  hundred  go,  and  only  twenty  get  taken  on 
(that  is  besides  those  engaged  the  night  previous.)  The  foreman  stood  in  his 
box,  and  called  out  the  men  he  wanted.  He  would  know  quite  five  hundred  by 
name.  It  was  a  regular  fight  to  gc;  work,  I  have  known  nine  hundred  to  be 
taken  on,  but  there's  always  lunulrcHls  turned  away.  You  see  they  get  to  know 
when  ships  come  in,  and  when  they're  consequenvly  likely  to  be  wanted,  and 
turn  up  then  in  greater  numbers.  I  would  earn  30.1.  a  week  sometimes  and 
then  perhaps  nothing  for  a  fortnight.  That's  what  makes  it  so  hard.  You  get 
nothing  to  eat  for  a  week  scarcely,  and  tiien  when  you  get  taken  on,  you  are  so 
'veak  that  you  can't  do  it  properly.  I've  stood  in  the  crowd  at  the  gate  and  had 
to  go  av-'ay  without  work,  hundreds  of  times.  Still  I  should  go  at  it  again  if  I 
could.  I  got  tired  of  the  little  work  and  went  away  into  the  country  to  get  work 
on  a  farm,  but  couldn't  get  it,  so  I'm  without  the  ioj.  that  it  costs  to  join  the 
I)ocker»j'  Union.  I'm  going  to  the  country  again  in  a  day  or  two  to  try  again. 
Expect  to  get  y.  a  day  perhaps.  Shall  come  back  to  the  docks  again.  There 
is  a  chance  of  getting  regular  dock  work,  and  that  is,  to  lounge  about  the  pubs, 
where  the  foremen  go,  and  treat  tlRin.  Then  they  will  very  likely  take  you  on 
next  day." 


I  'il 


R.  P.  was  a  non-Unionist.     Henry  F.  is  a  Unionist, 
is  much  the  same. 


His  history 


98 


THE   OUT-OF-WORK*. 


"  I  worked  at  St.  Katherinc's  Docks  fivo  monllis  iiRo.  Yon  have  to  get  to  tlic 
Rates  at  6  o'clock  for  the  first  call.  There's  geiierally  about  400  waiting.  Tln-v 
will  take  on  one  to  two  hundred.  Then  at  7  o'clock  there's  a  second  call 
Another  400  will  have  gathered  by  then,  and  another  hundred  or  so  will  be  taken 
on.  Also  there  will  probably  be  calls  at  nine  and  one  o'clock.  About  the  sanu' 
number  turn  up  but  there's  no  work  for  many  hundreds  of  them.  I  was  a  Union 
man.  That  means  los.  a  week  sick  pay,  or  8s.  a  week  for  slight  accidents  ;  also 
some  other  advantages  The  Docks  won't  take  men  on  now  unless  they  ai> 
Unionists.  The  |)oint  is  that  there's  too  many  men.  I  would  often  be  out  of 
work  a  fortnight  to  three  weeks  at  a  time.  Once  earned  ^3  in  a  week,  working 
day  and  night,  but  then  had  a  fortnight  out  directly  after.  Especially  when  there 
don't  happen  to  be  any  ships  in  for  a  few  days,  which  means,  of  course,  nothing 
to  unload.  That's  the  time  ;  there's  plenty  of  men  almost  starving  then.  They 
have  no  trade  to  go  to,  or  can  get  no  work  at  it,  and  they  swoop  down  to  the 
docks  for  w.jrk,  when  they  had  much  better  stay  away." 

But  it  is  not  only  at  the  dock-gates  that  you  come  upon  these 
unfortunates  who  spend  their  lives  in  the  vain  hunt  for  work.  Here 
is  the  story  of  another  man  whose  case  has  only  too  many  parallels. 

C.  is  a  fine  built  man,  standing  nearly  six  leet.  He  has  been  in  the  Royal 
Artillery  for  eight  years  and  held  very  good  situations  whilst  in  it.  It  seems 
that  he  was  thrifty  and  consequently  steady.  He  bought  his  discharge,  and 
being  an  excellent  cook  opened  a  refreshment  house,  but  at  the  end  of  five 
months  he  was  compelled  to  close  his  shop  on  account  of  slackness  in  trade, 
which  was  brought  about  by  the  closing  of  a  large  factory  in  the  locality. 

After  having  worked  in  Scotland  and  Newcastle-on-Tyne  for  a  few  years, 
and  through  ill  health  having  to  give  up  his  situation,  he  came  to  London  with 
tne  hope  that  he  might  get  something  to  do  in  his  native  town.  He  has  had  no 
regular  employment  for  the  past  eight  months.  His  wife  and  family  are  in  a 
state  01  destitution,  and  he  remarked,  "We  only  had  I  lb.  of  bread  between  us 
yesterday."  He  is  six  weeks  in  arrears  of  rent,  and  is  afraid  that  he  will  be 
ejected.  The  fmniture  which  is  in  his  home  is  not  worth  3s.  and  the  clothes  of 
each  member  of  his  family  are  in  a  tattered  state  and  hardly  fit  for  the  rag  hag. 
He  assured  us  he  had  tried  everywhere  to  get  employment  and  would  be  willing 
to  take  anything.     His  characters  are  very  good  indeed. 

Now,  it  may  seem  a  preposterous  dream  that  any  arrangement  can 
be  devised  by  which  it  may  be  possible,  under  all  circumstances,  to 
provide  food,  clothes,  and  shelter  for  all  these  Out-of-Works 
without  any  loss  of  self  respect ;  but  I  am  convinced  that  it  can  be 
done,  providing  only  that  they  are  willing  to  Work,  and,  God  helping 
me,  if  the  means  are  forthcoming,  I  mean  to  try  to  do  it ;  how,  and 
where,  and  when,  I  will  explain  in  subsequent  chapters. 


A    REALISABLE    IDEAL. 


39 


All  that  I  need  say  here  is,  that  so  long  as  a  man  or  woman  is 
willing  to  submit  to  the  discipline  indispensable  in  every  campaign 
against  any  formidable  foe,  there  appears  to  me  nothing  impossible 
about  this  ideal ;  and  the  great  element  of  hope  •l)cforc  us  is  that  the 
majority  are,  beyond  all  gainsaying,  eager  for  work.  Most  ol 
them  now  do  more  exhausting  work  in  seeking  for  employment  than 
the  regular  toilers  do  in  their  workshops,  and  do  it,  too,  under  the 
darkness  of  hope  deferred  wliich  maketh  the  heart  sick. 


U 


1^' 


1 
It: 


CHAPTER   V. 


ON   THE   VERGE   OF   THE   ABYSS. 


■1 

i" 


There  is,  anfortunately,  no  need  for  me  to  attempt  to  set  out,  how- 
ever imperfectly  ,\ny  statement  of  the  evil  case  of  the  sufTerers  whom 
we  wish  to  help.  For  years  past  the  Press  has  been  filled  with 
echoes  of  the  "  Bitter  Crv  of  Outcast  London,"  with  pictures  of 
"  Horrible  Glasgow,"  and  the  like.  We  have  had  several  volumes 
describing  "  How  the  Poor  Live,"  and  I  may  therefore  assume  that 
all  my  readers  are  more  or  less  cognizant  of  the  main  outlines  of 
"  Darkest  England."  My  slum  officers  are  living  in  the  midst  of  it ; 
their  reports  are  before  me,  and  one  day  I  may  publish  some  more 
detailed  account  of  the  actual  facts  of  the  social  condition  of  the 
Sunken  Millions.  But  not  now.  All  that  must  be  taken  as  read.  I 
only  glance  at  the  subject  in  order  to  bring  into  clear  relief  the 
salient  points  of  our  new  Enterprise. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  houseless  poor.  Each  of  these  represents  a 
point  in  the  scale  of  human  suffering  below  that  of  those  who  have  still 
contrived  to  keep  a  shelter  over  their  heads.  A  home 's  a  home,  be 
it  ever  so  low ;  and  the  desperate  tenacity  with  which  the  poor 
will  cling  to  the  last  wretched  semblance  of  one  is  very  touch- 
ing. There  are  vile  dens,  fever-haunted  and  stenchful  crowded 
courts,  where  the  return  of  summer  is  dreaded  because  it 
means  the  unloosing  of  myriads  of  vermin  w^hich  render  night 
unbearable,  which,  nevertheless,  are  regarded  at  this  moment  as 
havens  of  rest  by  their  hard-working  occupants.  They  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  be  furnished.  A  chair,  a  mattress,  and  a  few  miserable 
sticks  constitute  all  the  furniture  of  the  single  room  in  which  they 
hive  to  sleep,  and  breed,  and  die ;  but  they  cling  to  it  as  a  drowning 
man  to  a  half-submerged  raft.  Every  week  they  contrive  by  pinch- 
ing and  scheming  to  raise  the  rent,  for  with  them  it  is  pay  or  go ; 
^d  they  struggle  to  nieet  the  collector  a$  the  sailor  nerves  himself 


I 


A    CRY    OF    DESPAIR. 


41 


to  avoid  being  sucked  under  by  the  foaming  wave.  If  :it  any  time 
work  fails  or  sickness  conies  they  are  liable  to  drop  helplessly  into 
the  ranks  of  the  homeless.  It  is  bad  for  a  single  man  to  have  to 
confront  the  struggle  for  life  in  the  streets  and  Casual  Wards.  But 
how  much  more  terrible  must  it  be  for  the  married  man  with  his 
wife  and  children  to  be  turned  out  into  the  streets.  So  long  as  the 
family  has  a  lair  into  which  it  can  creep  at  night,  he  keeps  his  footing; 
but  when  he  loses  that  solitar}'  foothold  then  arrives  the  time  if 
there  be  such  athing  as  Christian  compassion,  for  the  helping  hand 
to  be  held  out  to  save  him  from  the  vortex  that  sucks  him  downward 
— ay,  downward  to  the  hopeless  under-strata  of  crime  and  despair. 

**  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness  and  the  stranger  inter- 
meddleth  not  therewith."  But  now  and  then  out  of  the  depths  there 
sounds  a  bitler  wail  as  of  some  strong  swimmer  in  his  agony  as  he 
is  drawn  under  by  the  current.  A  short  time  ago  a  respectable  man, 
a  chemist  in  Holloway,  fifty  years  of  age,  driven  hard  to  the  wall, 
tried  to  end  it  all  by  cutting  his  throat.  His  wife  also  cut  her 
throat,  and  at  the  same  time  they  gave  strychnine  to  their  only 
child.  The  effort  failed,  and  they  were  placed  on  trial  for  attempted 
rnurder.  In  the  Court  a  'etter  was  read  which  the  poor  wretch  had 
written  before  attempting  his  life  : — 

My  DEAREST  George, — Twelve  months  have  I  now  passed  of  a  most  miserable 
and  struggling  existence,  and  I  really  cannot  stand  it  any  more.  I  am  com- 
pletely worn  out,  and  relations  who  could  assist  me  won't  do  any  more,  for  such 
was  uncle's  last  intimation.  Never  mind ;  he  can't  take  his  money  and  comfort 
with  him,  and  in  all  probability  will  find  himself  in  the  same  boat  as  myself. 
He  never  enquires  whether  I  am  starving  or  not.  £'i — a  mere  flea-bite  to  him — 
would  have  put  us  straight,  and  with  his  security  and  good  interest  might  have 
obtained  me  a  good  situation  long  ago.  I  can  face  poverty  and  degradation  no 
longer,  and  would  sooner  die  than  go  to  the  workhouse,  whatever  may  be  the 
awful  consequences  of  the  steps  we  have  taken.  We  have,  God  forgive  us, 
taken  our  darling  Arty,  with  us  out  of  pure  love  and  affection,  so  that  the 
darling  should  never  be  cuffed  about,  or  reminded  or  taunted  with  his  heart- 
broken parents'  crime.  My  poor  wife  has  done  her  best  at  needle-work, 
wa;  hing,  house-minding,  &c.,  in  fact,  anything  and  everything  that  would  bring 
in  a  shilling ;  but  it  would  only  keep  us  in  semi-starvation.  I  have  now  done 
si.x  weeks'  travelling  from  morning  till  night,  and  not  received  one  farthing  for 
it.  Ii  that  is  not  enough  to  drive  you  mad— wickedly  mad— I  don't  know  what 
is.    No  bright  prospect  anywhere  ;  no  ray  of  hope. 

May  God  Almighty  forgive  us  for  this  heinous  sin,  and  have  mercy 
on    our    sinful    souls,    is    the     prayer    of    your    miserable,    broken-hearted. 


'    i 


.^inn't 


42 


ON  THE  VERGE  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


'it 


but  loving  brother,  Arthur.  We  have  now  done  everything  that  we  can 
possibly  thinli  of  to  avert  this  wicked  proceeding,  but  can  discover  n'> 
ray  of  hope.  Fei-vent  prayer  has  availed  us  nothing;  our  lot  is  cast, 
and  we  must  abide  by  it.  It  must  be  God's  will  or  He  would  have 
ordained  it  differently.  Dearest  Georgy,  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  leave  you 
all,  but  I  am  mad — thoroughly  mad.  You,  dear,  must  try  and  forget  us,  and, 
if  possible,  forgive  us ;  for  I  do  not  consider  it  our  own  fault  we  have  not 
pucijeeded.  If  you  could  get  £i  for  our  bed  it  will  pay  our  rent,  and  our  scanty 
furniture  may  fetch  enough  to  bury  us  in  a  cheap  way.  Don't  grieve  over  us  or 
fo  How  us,  for  we  shall  not  be  worthy  of  such  respect.  Our  clergyman  has 
never  called  on  us  or  given  us  the  least  consolation,  though  I  called  on  him  a 
month  ago.  He  is  paid  to  preach,  and  (here  he  considers  his  responsibility 
ends,  the  rich  excepted.  We  have  only  yourself  and  a  very  few  others  who 
care  one  pin  what  becomes  of  us,  but  you  must  try  and  forgive  us.  is  the  last 
fervent  prayer  of  your  devotedly  fond  and  affectionate  but  broken-hearted  and 
persecuted  brother.  (Signed)         R.  A.  O . 

That  is  an  authentic  human  document — a  transcript  from  the  Hfe 
of  one  among  thousands  who  go  down  inarticulate  into  the  depths. 
They  die  and  make  no  sign,  or,  worse  still,  they  continue  to  exist, 
carrying  about  with  them,  year  after  year,  the  bitter  ashes  of  a  life 
from  which  the  furnace  of  misiortune  has  burnt  away  all  joy,  and  hope, 
and  strength.     Who  is  there  who  has  not  been  confronted  by  many 

despairing  ones,  who  come,  as  Richard  O went,  to  the  clergyman, 

crying  for  help,  and  how  seldom  have  we  been  able  to  give  it  them  ? 
It  is  unjust,  no  doubt,  for  them  to  blame  the  clergy  and  the  comfort- 
able well-to-do — for  what  can  they  do  but  preach  and  offer  good 

advice  ?    To  assist  all  the  Richard  O s'  by  direct  financial  advance 

would  drag  even  Rothschild  into  the  gutter.  And  what  else  can  be 
done  ?  Yet  something  else  must  be  done  if  Christianity  is  not  to  be 
a  mockery  to  perishing  men. 

Here  is  another  case,  a  very  common  case,  which  illustrates  how 
the  Army  of  Despair  is  recruited. 

Mr.  T.,  Margaret  Place,  Gascoign  Place,  Bethnal  Green,  is  a  bootmaker  by  trade. 
Is  a  good  hand,  and  hv.s  earned  three  shillings  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings  and 
sixpence  a  day.  He  was  taken  ill  last  Christmas,  and  went  to  the  London  Hospital ; 
was  there  three  months.  A  week  after  he  had  gone  Mrs.  T.  had  rheumatic 
fever,  and  was  taken  to  Bethnal  Green  Infirmary,  where  she  remained  about 
three  months.  Directly  after  they  had  been  taken  ill,  their  furniture  was  seized 
for  the  three  weeks'  rent  which  was  owing.  Consequently,  on  becoming  con" 
valescent,  they  were  homeLss.  They  came  out  about  the  same  time.  He  went 
out  to  a  lodging-house  for  a  night  or  two,  untU  she  came  out.    He  then  had 


liili 

IvUlV 


WANTED    A    SOCIAL    LIFE-BOAT    BRIGADE  I 


43 


t  we   can 
iscover  n" 
3t  is  cast, 
ould  have 
leave  you 
;t  us,  and, 
!  have  not 
our  scanty 
over  us  or 
gyman  has 
1  on  him  a 
sponsibility 
others  who 
is  the  last 
learted  and 

A.0 . 

)m  the  life 
he  depths, 
le  to  exist, 
es  of  a  life 
I  and  hope, 
i  by  many 
ergyman, 
e  it  them  ? 
e  comfort- 
offer  good 
al  advance 
Ise  can  be 
5  not  to  be 

trates  how 

ker  by  trade, 
hillings  and 
on  Hospital ; 
rheumatic 
ained  about 
>  was  seized 
coming  con" 
He  went 
le  then  had 


twopence,  and  she  had  sixpence,  which  a  nurse  had  given  her.  They  went  to  a 
lodging-house  together,  but  the  society  there  was  dreadful.  Next  day  he  had  a 
day's  work,  and  got  two  shillings  and  sixpence,  and  on  the  strength  of  this  they 
took  a  furnished  room  at  tenpence  per  day  (payable  nightly).  His  work  lasted 
a  few  weeks,  when  he  was  again  taken  ill,  lost  his  job,  and  spent  all  their  money. 
Pawned  a  shirt  and  apron  for  a  shilling ;  spent  that,  too.  At  last  pawned  theii 
tools  for  three  shillings,  which  got  them  a  few  days'  food  and  lodging.  He  is 
now  minus  tools  and  cannot  work  at  his  own  job,  and  does  anything  he  can. 
Spent  their  last  twopence  on  a  pen'orth  each  of  tea  end  sugar.  In  two  days 
they  had  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter  each,  that 's  all.  They  are  both  very  weak 
through  want  of  food. 

"  Let  things  alone,"  the  laws  of  supply  and  demand,  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  excuses  by  which  those  who  stand  on  firm  ground  salve 
their  consciences  when  they  leave  their  brother  to  sink,  how  do 
they  look  when  we  apply  them  to  the  actual  loss  of  Hfe  at  sea  ? 
Does  "let  things  alone"  man  the  lifeboat?  Will  the  inexorable  laws  of 
political  economy  save  the  shipwrecked  sailor  from  the  boiling  surf? 
They  often  enough  are  responsible  for  his  disaster.  Coffin  ships 
are  a  direct  result  of  the  wretched  policy  of  non-interference  with  the 
legitimate  operations  of  commerce,  but  no  desire  to  make  it  pay 
created  the  National  Lifeboat  Institution,  no  law  of  supply  and 
demand  actuates  the  volunteers  who  risk  their  lives  to  bring  the 
shipwrecked  to  shore. 

What  we  have  to  do  is  to  apply  the  same  principle  to  society. 
We  want  a  Social  Lifeboat  Institution,  a  Social  Lifeboat  Brigade,  to 
snatch  from  the  abyss  those  who,  if  left  to  themselves,  will  perish 
as  miserably  as  the  crew  of  a  ship  that  folinders  in  mid-ocean. 

The  moment  that  we  take  in  hand  this  work  we  shall  be 
compelled  to  turn  our  attention  seriously  to  the  question 
whether  prevention  is  not  better  than  cure.  It  is  easier  and 
cheaper,  and  in  every  way  better,  to  prevent  the  loss 
of  home  than  to  have  to  re-create  that  home.  It  is  better  to  keep  a 
man  out  of  the  mire  than  to  let  him  fall  in  first  and  then  risk  the 
chance  of  plucking  him  out.  Any  Scheme,  therefore,  that  attempts 
to  deal  with  the  reclamation  of  the  lost  must  tend  to  develop  into  an 
endless  variety  of  ameliorative  measures,  of  some  of  which  I  shall 
have  somewhat  to  say  hereafter.  I  only  mention  the  subject  here  in 
order  that  no  one  may  say  I  am  blind  to  the  necessity  of  going  further 
and  adopting  wider  plans  of  operation  than  those  which  I  put 
forward  in  this  book.     The  renovation  of  our  Social  System  is  a 


I  ':•! 


■V    " 


/- ' 


ff< 


E. 


44 


ON  THE  VERGE  OF  THE  ABYSS. 


r 


work  so  vast  that  no  one  of  us,  nor  all  of  us  put  together,  can  define 
all  the  measures  that  will  have  to  be  taken  before  we  attain  even  the 
Cab-Horse  Ideal  of  existence  for  our  children  and  children's 
children.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to  attack,  in  a  serious,  practical 
spirit  the  worst  and  most  pressing  evils,  knowing  that  if  we  do  our 
duty  we  obey  the  voice  of  God.  He  is  the  Captain  of  our  Salvation. 
If  we  but  follow  where  He  leads  we  shall  not  want  for  marching  orders, 
nor  need  we  imagine  that  He  will  narrow  the  field  of  operations. 

I  am  labouring  under  no  delusions  as  to  the  possibility  of  inaugu- 
rating the  Millennium  by  any  social  specific.  In  the  struggle  of  life 
the  weakest  will  go  to  the  wall,  and  there  are  so  many  weak.  The 
fittest,  in  tooth  and  claw,  will  survive.  All  that  we  can  do  is  to 
soften  the  lot  of  the  unfit  and  make  their  suffering  less  horrible  than 
it  is  at  present.  No  amount  of  assistance  will  give  a  jellyfish  a  back- 
bone. No  outside  propping  will  make  some  men  stand  erect.  All 
material  help  from  without  is  useful  only  in  so  far  as  it  develops 
moral  strength  within.  And  some  men  seem  to  have  lost  even  the 
very  faculty  of  self-help.  There  is  an  immense  lack  of  common 
sense  and  of  vital  energy  on  the  part  of  multitudes. 

It  is  against  Stupidity  in  every  shape  and  form  that  we  have  to 
wage  our  eternal  battle.  But  how  can  we  wonder  at  the  want  of  sense 
on  the  part  of  those  who  have  had  no  advantages,  when  we  see  such 
plentiful  absence  of  that  commodity  on  the  part  of  those  who  have 
had  all  the  advantages  ? 

How  can  we  marvel  if,  after  leaving  generation  after  generation 
to  grow  up  uneducated  and  underfed,  there  ohould  be  developed  a 
heredity  of  incapacity,  and  that  thousands  of  dull-witted  people 
should  be  born  into  the  world,  disinherited  before  their  birth  of  their 
share  in  the  average  intelligence  of  mankind  ? 

Besides  those  who  are  thus  hereditarily  wanting  in  the  qualities 
necessary  to  enable  hem  to  hold  their  own,  there  are  the 
weak,  the  disabled,  the  aged,  and  the  unskilled ;  worse  than  all, 
there  is  the  want  of  character.  Those  who  have  the  best  of  reputa- 
tion, if  they  lose  their  foothold  on  the  ladder,  find  it  difficult  enough 
to  regain  their  place.  What,  then,  can  men  and  women  who  have  no 
character  do  ?  When  a  master  has  the  choice  of  a  hundred  honest 
men,  is  it  reasonable  to  expect  that  he  will  select  a  poor  fellow  with 
tarnished  reputation  ? 

All  this  is  true,  and  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  makes  the  problem 
almost  insoluble.     And  insoluble  it  is,   I  am  absolutely  convinced, 


h  ■ 


SAVING  THE  BODY  TO  SAVE  THE  SOUL. 


45 


lit!' 


,  can  define 
in  even  the 
children's 
IS,  practical 
we  do  our 
r  Salvation, 
ling  orders, 
•ations. 
of  inaugu- 
iggle  of  life 
/veak.     The 
in  do  is  to 
orrible  than 
ffish  a  back- 
erect.     All 
it  develops 
ist  even  the 
of  common 

we  have  to 
ant  of  sense 
we  see  such 
e  who  have 

•  generation 
developed  a 
itted  people 
(irth  of  their 

the  qualities 
tre  are  the 
se  than  all, 
St  of  rcputa- 
icult  enough 
who  have  no 
idred  honest 
fellow  with 


unless  it  is  possible  to  bring  new  moral  life  into  the  soul  of  these 
people.  This  should  be  the  fir«st  object  of  every  social  reformer,  whose 
work  will  only  last  if  it  is  built  on  the  solid  foundation  of  a  new 
birth,  to  cry  "  You  must  be  born  again." 

To  get  a  man  soundly  saved  it  is  not  enough  to  put  on  him  a  pair 
of  new  breeches,  to  give  him  regular  work,  or  even  to  give  him  a 
University  education.  These  things  are  all  outside  a  man,  and  if  the 
inside  remains  unchanged  you  have  wasted  your  labour.  You  must 
in  some  way  or  otlier  graft  upon  the  man's  nature  a  new  nature, 
which  has  in  it  the  element  of  the  Vi  /me.  All  that  I  propose  in  this 
book  is  governed  by  that  principle. 

The  difl'erence  between  the  method  which  seeks  to  regenerate  the 
man  by  ameliorating  his  circumstances  and  that  which  ameliorates 
his  circumstances  in  order  to  get  at  the  regeneration  of  his  heart, 
is  the  diftcrence  between  the  method  of  the  gardener  who  grafts  a 
Ribstone  Pippin  on  a  crab-apple  tree  and  one  who  merely  ties 
apples  with  string  upon  the  branches  of  the  crab.  To  change  the 
nature  of  the  individual,  to  get  at  the  heart,  to  save  his  soul  is  the 
only  real,  lasting  method  of  doing  him  any  good.  In  many  modern 
schemes  of  social  regeneration  it  is  forgotten  that  "  it  takes  a  soul 
to  move  a  body,  e'en  to  a  cleaner  sty,"  and  at  the  risk  of  being  mis- 
understood and  misrepresented,  I  must  assert  in  the  most  un- 
qualified way  that  it  is  primarily  and  mainly  for  the  sake  of  saving 
the  soul  that  I  seek  the  salvation  of  the  body 

But  what  is  the  use  of  preaching  the  Gospel  to  men  whose  whole 
attention  is  concentrated  upon  a  mad,  desperate  struggle  to  keep 
themselves  alive  ?  \'ou  might  as  well  give  a  tract  to  a  shipwrecked 
sailor  who  is  battling  with  the  surf  which  has  drowned  his  comrades 
and  threatens  to  drown  him.  He  will  not  listen  to  you.  Nay,  he 
cannot  hear  you  any  more  than  a  man  whose  head  is  under  water 
can  listen  to  a  sermon.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  him  at  least 
a  footing  on  firm  ground,  and  to  give  him  room  to  live.  Then  you 
may  have  a  chance.  At  present  you  have  none.  And  you  will 
have  all  the  better  opportunity  to  find  a  way  to  hi?  heart,  if  he 
comes  to  know  that  it  was  you  who  pulled  him  out  of  the  horrible 
pit  and  the  miry  clay  in  which  he  was  sinking  to  perdition. 


I 
I 

I  ■ 


!'i 


'!<.         'I  I 


n  i 


CHAPTER    VL 


THE  VICIOUS. 


There  are  many  vices  and  seven  deadly  sins.  But  of  late  years 
many  of  the  seven  have  contrived  to  pass  themselves  off  as  virtues. 
Avarice,  for  instance  ;  and  Pride,  when  re-baptised  thrift  and  self- 
respect,  have  become  the  guardian  angels  of  Christian  civilisation  ; 
and  as  for  Envy,  it  is  the  corner-stone  upon  which  much  of  our 
competitive  system  is  founded.  There  are  still  two  vices  which  are 
fortunate,  or  unfortunate,  enough  to  remain  undisguised,  not  even 
concealing  from  themselves  the  fact  that  they  are  vices  and  not 
virtues.  One  is  drunkenness ;  the  other  fornication.  The  vicious- 
ness  of  these  vices  is  so  little  disguised,  even  from  those  who 
habitually  practise  them,  that  there  will  be  a  protest  against  merely 
describing  one  of  them  by  the  right  Biblical  name.  Why  not  say 
prostitution  ?  For  this  reason  :  prostitution  is  a  word  applied  to 
only  one  half  of  the  vice,  and  that  the  most  pitiable.  Fornication 
hits  both  sinners  alike.     Prostitution  applies  only  to  the  woman. 

When,  however,  we  cease  to  regard  this  vice  from  the  point  of 
view  of  morality  and  religion,  and  look  at  it  solely  as  a  factor  in  the 
social  problem,  the  word  prostitution  is  less  objectionable.  For  the 
social  burden  of  this  vice  is  borne  almost  entirely  by  women.  The 
male  sinner  does  not,  by  the  mere  fact  of  his  sin,  find  himself  in  a 
worse  position  in  obtaining  employment,  in  finding  a  home,  or  even 
in  securing  a  wife.  His  wrong-doing  only  hits  him  in  his  purse,  or, 
perhaps,  in  his  health.  His  incontinence,  excepting  so  far  as 
it  relates  to  the  woman  whose  degradation  it  necessitates,  does  not 
add  to  the  number  of  those  for  whom  society  has  to  provide.  It  is 
an  immense  addition  to  the  infamy  of  this  vice  in  man  that 
its  consequences  have  to  be  borne  almost  exclusively  by  woman. 

The  difficulty  of  dealing  with  drunkards  and  harlots  is  almost 
insurmountable.    Were  it  not  that  I  utterly  repudiate  as  a  funda- 


iiil 


NOT    BORN    BUT    DAMNED    INTO    THE    WORLD.' 


47 


ate  years 
IS  virtues, 
and  self- 
^ilisation  ; 
:h  of  our 
which  are 
not  even 
and  not 
e  vicious- 
hose  who 
ist  merely 
ly  not  say 
apphed  to 
brnication 
oman. 
e  point  of 
ctor  in  the 
For  the 
aen.  The 
imself  in  a 
le,  or  even 


purse,  or, 
so  far  as 
5,  does  not 
■ide.     It  is 

man  that 
3man. 

is  almost 
s  a  funda- 


mental denial  of  the  essential  principle  of  the  Chstian  religion  the 
popular  pseudo-scientific  doctrine  that  any  man  or  woman  is  past 
saving  by  the  grace  of  God  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  would 
sometimes  be  disposed  to  despair  when  contemplating  these  victims 
of  the  Devil.  The  doctrine  of  Heredity  and  the  suggestion  of  Irre- 
sponsibility come  perilously  near  re-establishing,  on  scientific  bases, 
the  awful  dogma  of  Reprobation  which  has  cast  so  terrible  a  shadow 
over  the  Christian  Church.  For  thousands  upon  thousands  of  these 
poor  wretches  are,  as  Bishop  South  truly  said,  "  not  so  much  born 
into  this  world  as  damned  into  it."  The  bastard  of  a  harlot,  born  in 
a  brothel,  suckled  on  gin,  and  familiar  from  earliest  infancy  with  all 
the  bestialities  of  debauch,  violated  before  she  is  twelve,  and  driven 
out  into  the  streets  by  her  mother  a  year  or  two  later,  what  chance  is 
there  for  such  a  girl  in  this  world — I  say  nothing  about  the  next  ? 
Yet  such  a  case  is  not  exceptional.  There  are  many  such  differing 
ill  detail,  but  in  essentials  the  same.  And  with  boys  it  is  almost 
as  bad.  There  are  thousands  who  were  begotten  when  both 
parents  were  besotted  with  drink,  whose  mothers  saturated  them- 
selves with  alcohol  every  day  of  their  pregnancy,  who  may  be 
said  to  have  sucked  in  a  taste  for  strong  drink  with  Iheir  mothers' 
milk,  and  who  were  surrounded  from  childhood  with  opportunities 
and  incitements  to  drink.  How  can  we  marvel  that  the  constitution 
thus  disposed  to  intemperance  finds  the  stimulus  of  drink  indispen- 
sable ?  Even  if  they  make  a  stand  against  it,  the  increasing 
pressure  of  exhaustion  and  of  scanty  food  drives  them  back  to  the 
cap.  Of  these  poor  wretches,  born  slaves  of  the  bottle,  predestined 
tc>  drunkenness  from  *heir  mother's  womb,  there  are — who  can  say 
ho\v  many  ?  Yet  they  are  all  men  ;  all  with  what  the  Russian 
peasants  call  "  i  spark  of  God  "  in  them,  which  can  never  be  wholly 
obscured  and  destroyed  while  life  exists,  and  if  any  social  scheme  is 
to  be  comprehensive  and  practical  it  must  deal  with  these  men  It 
must  provide  for  the  drunkard  and  the  harlot  as  it  provides  for  the 
improvident  and  the  out-of-work.  But  who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  ? 

I  will  take  the  question  of  the  drunkard,  for  '.he  drink  difficulty  lies 
at  the  root  of  everything.  Nine-tenths  of  our  poverty,  squalor,  vice, 
and  crime  spring  from  this  poisonous  tap-root.  Many  of  our  social 
evils,  which  overshadow  the  land  like  so  many  upas  tresis,  would 
dwindle  away  and  die  if  they  were  not  constantly  watered  with  strong 
drink.      There  is  universal  agreement  on  that  point ;  in  fact,  the 


•>¥'      Ml 


!    I 


4S 


THE    VICIOUS. 


m 


11    i 


agreement  as  to  tho  ovils  of  intemperance  is  almost  as  universal  as 
the  conviction  that  politicians  will  do  nothing  practical  to  interfere 
with  them.  In  Ireland,  Mr.  Justice  Fitzgerald  says  that  intcmpcance 
leads  to  'linctccn  wt-Uieths  of  the  crime  in  that  cruntry,  hv'  nc  cnc 
prcnosc  <  C  "on  Act  to  deal  w'*h  that  evil.  In  England, 
Liic  jucigi  '•  ;ili  nv  the  same  thing.  Of  course  it  is  a  mistake 
to  ass'  nc  l-'hii  n  i  i.rdcr,  for  instance,  would  never  be  conmiittcd  by 
sober  men,  i.',oause  "rdercrs  in  most  cases  prime  themselves  for 
their  deadly  work  by  a  ^'ass  of  Dutch  courage.  But  the  facility  of 
securing  a  reinforcement  of  passion  undoubtedly  tends  to  render 
always  dangerous,  and  sometimes  irresistible,  the  temptation  to  violate 
the  laws  of  God  and  man. 

Merc  lectures  against  the  evil  habit  are,  however,  of  no  avail. 
We  have  to  recognise,  that  the  gin-palace,  like  many  other  evils, 
although  a  poisonous,  is  still  a  natural  outgrowth  of  our  social  con- 
ditions. The  tap-room  in  many  cases  is  the  poor  man's  only  parlour. 
Many  a  man  takes  to  beer,  not  from  the  love  of  beer,  but  fnm  a 
natural  craving  for  the  light,  warmth,  company,  and  comfort  which  is 
thrown  in  along  with  the  beer,  and  which  he  cannot  get  excepting  by 
buying  beer.  Reformers  will  never  get  rid  of  the  drink  shop  until 
they  can  outbid  it  in  the  subsidiary  attractions  which  it  offers  to  its 
customers.  Then,  again,  let  us  never  forget  that  the  temptation  to 
drink  is  strongest  when  want  is  sharpest  and  misery  the  most  acute. 
A  well-fed  man  is  not  driven  to  drink  by  the  craving  that  torments 
the  hungry ;  and  the  comfortable  do  not  crave  for  the  boon  of  for- 
getful ncss.  Gin  is  the  only  Lethe  of  the  miserable.  The  foul  and 
poisoned  air  of  the  dens  in  which  thousands  live  predisposes  to  a 
longing  for  stimulant.  Fresh  air,  with  its  oxygen  and  its  ozone, 
being  lacking,  a  man  supplies  the  want  with  spirit.  After  a  time  the 
longing  for  drink  becomes  a  mania.  Life  seems  as  insupportable-with- 
out  alcohol  as  without  food.  It  is  a  disease  often  inherited,  always  de- 
veloped by  indulgence,  but  as  clearly  a  disease  as  ophthalmia  or  stone. 

All  this  should  predispose  us  to  charity  and  sympathy.  While 
recognising  that  the  primary  responsibility  must  always  rest  upon 
the  individual,  we  may  fairly  insist  that  society,  which,  by  its  habits, 
its  customs,  and  its  laws,  haa  greased  the  slope  down  which  these 
poor  creatures  slide  to  perdition,  shall  seriously  take  in  hand  their 
salvation. 

How  many  are  there  who  are,  more  or  less,  under  the  dominion 
of  strong  drink  ?     Statistics  abound,  but  they  seldom  tell  us  what 


vVANTED,    A    CENSUS    OF    DRUNKARDS. 


49 


we  want  to  know.  We  kno  how  many  pul)lic-liouses  there  arc  in 
the  \a\u\,  and  liow  many  arrests  for  chunkenness  the  pohce  make  in 
a  year;  hut  heyond  iliat  we  know  little.  Everyone  knows  that  for 
one  man  ho  is  arrested  for  drunkenness  there  are  at  least  ten— 
and  often  twenty— who  go  home  into.xicated.  In  London,  for 
ine^t.'Mice,  there  arc  14,000  drink  shops,  and  every  year  20,000 
persons  arc  arrested  for  drunkenness.  But  who  can  for  a  moment 
believe  that  there  are  only  20,000,  more  or  less,  habitual  drunkards 
in  London  ?  By  habitual  drunkard  I  do  not  mean  one  who  is 
always  drunk,  but  one  who  is  so  much  under  the  do'  -ii*.  of  th.e 
evil  habit  that  he  cannot  be  depended  upon  not  to  got  jru;  wlien- 
ever  the  opportunity  offers. 

In  the  United  Kingdom  there  are  190,000  p  ,'>i  uses,  and 
every  year  there  are  200,000  arrests  for  drunkenness.  Of  course, 
several  of  these  arrests  refer  to  the  same  person,  *  ho  is  locked  up 
again  and  again.  Were  this  not  so,  if  we  allowci..  ..  drunkards  to 
each  house  as  an  average,  or  five  habitual  drunkards  for  one  arrested 
for  drunkenness,  we  should  arrive  at  a  total  of  a  million  adults  who 
are  more  or  less  prisoners  of  the  publican — as  a  matter  of  fact, 
Isaac  Hoyle  gives  I  in  12  of  the  adult  population.  This  may  be  an 
excessive  estimate,  but,  if  we  take  half  of  a  million,  we  shall 
not  be  accused  of  exaggeration.  Of  these  some  are  in  the  last  stage 
of  confirmed  dipsomania ;  others  are  but  over  the  verge;  but  the 
procession  tends  ever  downwards. 

The  loss  which  the  maintenance  of  this  nuge  standing  army  of  a 
half  of   a    million  of   men  who  arc  more  or  less  always  besotted 
men  whose  intemperance  impairs  their  working  power,  consumes  their 
earnings,  and  renders  their  homes  wretched,  has  long  been  a  familiar 
theme  of  tlie  platform.     But  v.'hat  can  be  done  for  them  ?     Total 
abstinence  is  no  doubt  admirable,  but  how  are  you  to  get  them  to  be 
totally  abstinent  ?     When  a.  man  is  drowning  in  mid-ocean  the  one 
thing  that  is  needful,  no  doubt,  is  that  he  should  plant  his  feet  firmly 
on  terra  firma.     But  how  is  he  to  get  there  ?      It  is  just  what  he 
cannot  do.  And  so  it  is  with  the  drunkards.   If  they  are  to  be  rescued 
there  must  be  something  more  done  for  them  than  at  present  is 
attempted,  unless,  of  course,  we   df  "ide  definitely   to  allow  the  iron 
laws  of  nature  to  work  themselves   out  in    their   destruction.     In 
that  case  it  might   be  more  merciful  to  facilitate  the  slow  workings 
of  iiatural  law.     There  is  no  need  of  establishing  a  lethal  chamber 
for  drunkards  like  that  into  which   the   lost  dogs  of   London  are 

D 


iii 

liii 


I    i 


50 


THE   VICIOUS. 


driven,  to  die  in  peaceful  sleep  under  the  innuence  of  carbonic  oxide. 
The  State  would  only  need  to  go  a  little  further  than  it  goes  at 
present  in  the  way  of  supplying  poison  to  the  community.     If,  in 
addition  to  planting  a  flaming  gin  palace  at  each  corner,  free  to  all 
who  enter,  it  were  to  supply  free  gin  to  all  who  have  attained  a 
certain  recognised  standard  of  inebriety,  delirium  tremens   would 
3oon  reduce  our   drunken    population    to  manageable   proportions. 
I    can    imagine    a    cynical    millionaire    of    the    scientific    philan- 
thropic  school   making    a   clearance    of  all    the    drunkards    in    a 
district     by    the     simple    expedient    of    an    unlimited    allowance 
of  alcohol.     But  that  for  us  is  out  of  the  question.     The  problem 
of  what  to  do  with  our  half  of  a  million  drunkards  remains  to  be 
solved,  and  few  more  difficult  questions  confront  the  social  reformer. 
The  question  of  the  harlots  is,  however,  quite  as  'nsoluble  by  the 
ordinary  methods.     For  these  unfortunates  no  one  who  looks  below 
the  surface  can  fail  to  have  the  deepest  sympathy.     Some  there  are. 
no  doubt,  perhaps  many,  who — whether  from  inherited  passion  or 
from  evil  education — have  deliberately  embarked  upon  a  life  of  vice, 
but  with  the  majority  it  is  not  so.     Even   those  who  deliberately 
and   of   free    choice   adopt  the  profession    of  a  prostitute,    do    so 
under  the  stress  of  temptations  which  few  moralists  seem  to  realise. 
Terrible  as  the  fact  is,  there  is  no  doubt  it  is  a  fact  that  there  is  no 
industrial  career  in  which  for  a  short  time  a  beautiful  girl  can  make 
as  much  money  with  as  little  trouble  as  the  profession  of  a  courtesan. 
The  case  recently  tried  at  the  Lewes  assizes,  in  which  the  wife  ot 
an  officer  in  the  army  admitted  that  while  living  as  a  kept  mistress 
she  had  received  as  much  as  ;^4,ooo  a   year,  was  no  doubt  very 
exceptional.     Even  the  most  successful  adventuresses  seldom  make 
the  income  of  a  Cabinet  Minister,     But  take  women   in  professions 
and  in  businesses  all  round,  and  the  number  of  young  women  who 
have   received   iJ'SOO   in   one  year  for  the  sale  of  their  person  is 
larger  than  the  number  of  women  of  all  ages  who  make  a  similar  sum 
by  honest  industry.     It  is  only  the  very  few  who  draw  these  gilded 
prizes,   and   they   only   do  it  for  a   very   short   time.      But   it   is 
*he  few  prizes  in  every  profession  which  allure  the  multitude,  who 
think  little  of  the  many  blanks.     And  speaking  broadly,  vice  offers 
to  every  good-looking  girl  during  the  first  bloom  of  her  youth  and 
beauty  more  money  than  she  can  earn  by  labour  in  any  field  of 
industry  open  to  her  sex.     The  penalty  exacted  afterwards  is  disease, 
degradation  and  death,  but  these  things  at  first  are  hidden  from  her  sight. 


1 

m 

ni 

fl 

ca 

M 

.    in 

~'fl 

nc 

fl 

T 

9 

vi 

.9 

hi 

m 

si 

M 

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T 

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m 

in 

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m 

ai 

I 

P 

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P 

H 

A 

'9 

Si' 

FROM    THE    REGISTER    OF    THE    RESCUE    HOME. 


CI 


lie  oxide, 
t  goes  at 
y.  If,  in 
ree  to  all 
ttained  a 
IS  would 
)portions. 
philan- 
ds  in  a 
illowance 

problem 
ins  to  be 
reformer, 
le  by  the 
)ks  below 
there  are. 
assion  or 
ie  of  vice, 
liberately 
e,  do  so 
to  realise, 
ere  is  no 
can  make 
:ourtesan. 
he  wife  of 

mistress 
oubt  very 
om  make 
rofessions 
amen  who 
person  is 
milar  sum 
ese  gilded 
But  it  is 
tude,  who 
ice  offers 
^outh  and 
i  field  of 
is  disease, 
her  sight. 


The  profession  of  a  prostitute  is  the  only  career  in  which  the 
maximum  income  is  paid  to  the  newest  apprentice.  It  is  the  one 
calling  in  which  at  the  beginning  the  only  exertion  is  that  of  self- 
indulgence  ;  all  the  prizes  are  at  the  commencement.  It  is  the  ever- 
new  embodiment  of  the  old  fable  of  the  sale  of  the  soul  to  the  Devil. 
The  tempter  offers  wealth,  comfort,  excitement,  but  in  return  the 
victim  must  sell  her  soul,  nor  does  the  other  party  forget  to  exact 
his  due  to  the  uttermost  farthing.  Human  nature,  however,  is 
short-sighted.  Giddy  girlS^'^ chafing  against  the  restraints  of  uncon- 
genial industry,  see  the  glittering  bait  continually  before  them. 
They  arc  told  that  if  they  will  but  "do  as  others  do"  they  will 
make  more  in  a  night,  if  they  are  lucky,  than  they  can  make 
in  a  week  at  their  sewing ;  and  who  can  wonder  that  in  many  cases 
the  irrevocable  step  is  taken  before  they  realise  that  it  is  irrevocable, 
and  that  they  have  bartered  away  the  future  of  their  lives  for  the 
paltry  chance  of  a  year's  ill-gotten  gains  ? 

Of  the  severity  of  the  punishment  there  can  be  no  question.  If  the 
premium  is  high  at  the  beginning,  the  penalty  is  terrible  at  the  close. 
And  this  penalty  is  exacted  equally  from  those  who  have  deliberately 
said,  "Evil,  be  thou  my  Good,"  and  for  those  who  have  been  decoyed, 
snared,  trapped  into  the  life  which  is  a  living  death.  When  you  see 
a  girl  on  the  street  you  can  never  say  without  enquiry  whether  she 
13  one  of  the  most-to-be  condemned,  or  the  most-to-be  pitied  of  her 
sex.  Many  of  them  find  themselves  where  they  are  because  of  a  too 
trusting  disposition,  confidence  born  of  innocence  being  often  the 
unsuspecting  ally  of  the  procuress  and  seducer.  Others  are  as  much 
the  innocent  victims  of  crime  as  if  they  had  been  stabbed  or  maimed 
by  the  dagger  of  the  assassin.  The  records  of  our  Rescue  Homes 
abound  with  life-stories,  some  of  which  we  have  been  able  to  verify 
to  the  letter — which  prove  only  too  conclusively  the  existence  of 
numbers  of  innocent  victims  whose  entry  upon  this  dismal  life  can 
in  no  way  be  attributed  to  any  act  of  their  own  will.  Many  are 
orphans  or  the  children  of  depraved  mothers,  whose  one  idea  of  a 
daughter  is  to  make  money  out  of  her  prostitution.  Here  are  a  few 
cases  on  our  register : — 

E.  C,  aged  i8,  a  soldier's  child,  born  on  the  sea.  Her  father  died,  and  her 
mother,  a  thoroughly  depraved  woman,  assisted  to  secure  her  daughter's  prostitu- 
tion. 

P.  S.,  aged  20,  illegitimate  child.  Went  to  consult  a  doctor  one  time  about 
some  ailment.    The  doctor  abused  his  position  and  took  advantage  of  his  patient, 


'■."K  'II 


1 1  I    !'| 


1 


62 


THE    VICIOUS. 


1  i 


I ,' 


! 


and  wlien  slic  com|)!ainril,  Rave  her  ^4  as  ((impeiisation.  Wlicii  tliat  was  spent, 
liaving  lost  lier  character,  slie  came  on  the  town.  We  looked  the  doctor  u|),  and 
he  fled. 

E.  A.,  aged  17,  was  left  an  orphan  very  early  in  life,  and  adopted  by  her  god- 
father, who  himself  was  the  means  of  her  ruin  at  the  age  of  10. 

A  girl  ill  lit  c  teens  lived  with  her  mother  in  the  "  Dusthole,"  the  lowest  part  ot 
Woolwich.  This  woman  forced  her  out  upon  the  streets,  and  prolited  by  her 
prostitution  up  to  the  very  night  of  her  conlinement.  The  mother  had  all  tht  time 
been  the  receiver  of  the  gains. 

K.,  neither  father  nor  mother,  was  taken  care  ol  by  a  grandmother  till,  at  an 
early  age,  accounted  old  enough.  Married  a  soldier;  but  siioitly  before  the  birth 
of  her  first  child,  found  that  her  deceiver  had  a  wife  and  family  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  country,  and  she  was  soon  left  friendless  and  alone.  She  sought  an 
asylum  in  the  Workhouse  for  a  few  weeks,  after  which  she  vainly  tried  to  get 
honest  employment.  Failing  that,  and  being  on  the  very  verge  of  starvation, 
she  entered  a  lodging-house  in  Westminster  and  "did  as  other  girls."  Here 
our  lieutenant  found  and  persuaded  her  to  leave  and  enter  one  of  our  Homes, 
where  she  soon  gave  abundant  proof  of  her  conversion  by  a  thoroughly  changed 
life.     She  is  now  a  faithful  and  trusted  servant  in  a  clergyman's  family. 

A  girl  was  some  time  ago  discharged  from  a  city  hospital  after  an  illness.  She 
was  homeless  and  friendless,  an  orphan,  and  obliged  to  work  for  her  living. 
Walking  down  the  street  and  wondering  what  she  should  do  next,  she  met  a  girl, 
who  came  up  to  her  in  a  most  friendly  fashion  and  speedily  won  her  confidence. 

"Discharged  ill,  and  nowhere  to  go,  are  you?"  said  her  new  friend.  "Well, 
come  home  to  my  mother's;  she  will  lodge  you,  and  we'll  go  to  wo/'  together, 
when  you  are  quite  strong." 

The  girl  consented  gladly,  but  foimd  herself  conducted  to  the  very  lowest 
part  of  Woolwich  and  ushered  into  a  brothel;  there  was  no  mother  in  the  case. 
.She  was  hoaxed,  and  powerless  to  resist.  Her  protestations  were  too  late  to 
save  her,  and  having  had  her  character  forced  from  her  she  became  hopeless, 
and  stayed  on  to  live  the  life  of  her  false  friend. 

There  is  no  need  for  me  to  go  into  the  details  of  the  way  in  which 
men  and  women,  whose  whole  livelihood  depends  upon  their  success 
in  disarming  the  suspicions  of  their  victims  and  luring  them  to  their 
doom,  contrive  to  overcome  the  reluctance  of  the  young  girl  without 
parents,  friends,  or  helpers  to  enter  their  toils.  What  fraud  fails  to 
accompHsh,  a  little  force  succeeds  in  effecting ;  and  a  girl  who  has 
been  guilty  of  nothing  but  imprudence  finds  herself  an  outcast  for 
life. 

The  very  innocence  of  a  girl  tells  against  her.  A  woman  of 
the  world,  once  entrapped,  would  have  all  her  wits  about  her  to 


THE  VICTIMS  OF  IGNORANT  INNOCENCE. 


63 


was  spent . 
tor  up,  and 

by  her  god- 
west  part  ot 
iti'd   by  lit-r 
ail  the  time 

or  tiil,  at  an 

)re  the  birtli 

distant  part 

s  suiight  an 

tried  to  pet 

f  starvation, 

jiris."     Here 

our  Homes, 

;hly  changed 

lily. 

illness.  She 
ir  her  living- 
he  met  a  girl, 
•  coiitidence. 
Mid.  "Well, 
ji''  together, 

;  very  lowest 
T  in  the  case, 
re  too  late  to 
ime  hopeless, 

ay  in  which 
leir  success 
lem  to  their 
girl  without 
•aud  fails  to 
irl  who  has 
outcast  for 

I  woman  of 
)out  her  to 


extricate  herself  from  the  position  in  vvliich  she  found  herself.  A 
perfectly  virtuous  girl  is  often  so  overcome  with  shame  and  horror 
tiiat  there  seems  nothing  in  life  worth  struggling  for.  She  accepts 
her  doom  without  further  struggle,  and  treads  the  long  and  torturing 
path-way  of  "  the  streets  "  to  the  grave. 

"  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged  "  is  a  saying  that  applies  most 
appropriately  of  all  to  these  unfortunates.  Many  of  them  would 
have  escaped  their  evil  fate  had  they  been  less  innocent.  They  arc 
where  they  are  because  they  loved  toqf.  utterly  to  calculate  con- 
sequences, and  trusted  too  absolutely  to  dare  to  suspect  evil.  And 
others  arc  there  because  of  the  false  education  which  confounds 
ignorance  with  virtue,  and  throws  our  young  people  into  the  midst 
of  a  great  city,  with  all  its  excitements  and  all  its  temptations,  with- 
out more  preparation  or  warning  than  if  they  were  going  to  live  in 
the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Whatever  sin  they  have  committed,  a  terrible  penalty  is  exacted. 
While  the  man  who  caused  their  ruin  passes  as  a  respectable 
member  of  society,  to  whom  virtuous  matrons  gladly  marry — if  he 
is  rich — their  maiden  daughters,  they  are  crushed  beneath  the  mill- 
stone of  social  excommunication. 

Here  let  me  quote  from  a  report  made  to  me  by  the  head  of  our 
Rescue  Homes  as  to  the  actual  life  of  these  unfortunates. 

The  following  hundred  cases  are  taken  as  they  come  from  our  Rescue 
Register.  The  statements  are  those  of  the  girls  themselves.  They  are 
certainly  frank,  and  it  will  be  noticed  that  only  two  out  of  the  hundred  allege 
that  they  took  to  the  life  out  of  poverty : — 

Cause  of  Fall. 


Drink... 
Seduction 
Wilful  choice 
Bad  comp,   ly 
Poverty 


14 

33 

24 

27 

2 

Total     100 


Condition  when  Applying. 
Rags  ... 
Destitution 
Decently  dressed 


25 
27 
48 


Total     too 


Out  of  these  girls  twenty-three  have  been  in  prison. 

The  girls  suffer  so  much  that  the  shortness  of  their  miserable  life  is  the  only 
redeeming  feature.  Whether  we  look  at  the  wretchedness  of  the  life  it- elf;  their 
perpetual  intoxication  ;  the  cruel  treatment  to  which  they  are  subj«- -le'i  by  their 
task-masters  and  mistresses  or  bullies ;  the  hopelessness,  suffering  and  despair 
induced  by  their  circumstances  and  surroundings  ;  the  djepths  of  misery,  degra- 


'I 

ii'l 


r  M 


64 


THE    VICIOUS. 


■■\     Ml 


i   f 


i'  til 


dation  and  poverty  to  which  tliey  eventually  descend ;  or  their  treatment  in 
sickness,  their  friendlessness  and  loneliness  in  death,  it  must  be  admitted  that  a 
more  dismal  lot  saldom  falls  to  the  fate  of  a  human  being.  I  will  take  each  ot 
these  in  turn. 

Health. — This  life  induces  insanity,  rheumatism,  consumption,  and  all  forms 
of  syphilis.  Rheumatism  and  gout  are  the  commonest  of  these  evils.  Some 
were  quite  crippled  by  both — young  though  they  were.  Consumption  sows  its 
seeds  broadcast.  The  life  is  a  hot-bed  for  the  development  of  any  constitutional 
and  hereditary  germs  of  the  disease.  We  have  found  girls  in  Piccadilly  at  mid- 
night who  are  continually  prostrated  by  haemorrhage,  yet  who  have  no  other 
way  of  life  open,  so  struggle  on  in  this  awful  manner  between  whiles. 

Drink. — This  is  an  inevitable  part  of  the  business.  All  confess  that  they 
could  never  lead  their  miserable  lives  if  it  wer^  not  for  its  influence. 

A  girl,  who  was  educated  at  college,  and  who  had  a  home  in  which  was  every 
comfort,  but  who,  when  ruined,  had  fallen  even  to  the  depth  of  Woolwich 
"  Dusthole,"  exclaimed  to  us  indignantly — "  Do  you  think  I  could  ever,  ever  do 
this  if  it  weren't  for  the  drink  ?  I  always  have  to  be  in  drink  if  1  want  to  sin." 
No  girl  has  ever  come  into  our  Homes/rom  street-life  but  has  been  more  or  less 
a  prey  to  drink. 

Crijel  Treatment. — The  devotion  of  these  women  to  their  bullies  is  as 
remarkable  as  the  brutality  of  their  bullies  is  abominable.  Probably  the  primary 
cause  of  the  fall  of  numberless  girls  of  the  lower  class,  is  their  great  aspiration 
to  the  dignity  of  wifehood  ; — they  are  never  "  somebody  "  until  they  are  married, 
and  will  link  themselves  to  any  creature,  no  matter  how  debased,  in  the  hope  ot 
being  ultimately  married  by  him.  This  consideration,  in  addition  to  their  help- 
less condition  when  once  character  has  gone,  ma'<es  them  suffer  cruelties 
which  they  would  never  otherwise  endure  from  the  men  with  whom  large 
numbers  of  th'-m  live. 

One  case  in  illustration  of  this  is  that  of  a  girl  who  was  once  a  respectable 
servant,  the  daughter  of  a  police  serg  ;ant.  She  was  ruined,  and  shame  led  her 
to  leave  home.  .\t  length  she  drifted  to  Woolw;ch,  where  she  came  across  a 
man  who  perc.iaded  her  to  live  with  him,  and  for  a  considerable  length  of  time 
she  kept  him,  although  his  conduct  to  her  was  brutal  in  the  extreme. 

The  girl  living  in  the  next  room  to  her  has  frequently  heard  him  knock  her 
head  against  the  wall,  and  pound  it,  when  he  was  out  of  temper,  through  her 
gains  of  prostitution  being  less  than  usual.  He  lavished  upon  her  every  sort  of 
cruelty  and  abuse,  and  at  length  she  grew  so  wretched,  and  was  reduced  to 
so  dreadful  a  plight,  that  she  ceased  ^o  attract.  A  nis  he  became  furious,  and 
pawned  all  her  clothing  but  one  thin  garment  ot  rags.  The  week  before  her 
first  confinement  he  kicked  her  black  and  '-lue  from  neck  to  knees,  and  she 
was  carried  t"  the  police  station  in  a  pool  of  blood,  but  she  was  so  loyal  to 
the  wretch  that  fihe  refused  to  appear  against  him. 


S    :|5i 


FROM    WOOLWICH    DUSTHOLE. 


55 


Slie  was  going  to  drown  herself  in  desperation,  when  our  Rescue  Officers  spoi<e 
to  her,  wrapped  their  own  shawl  around  her  shivering  shoulders,  took  her  home 
with  them,  and  cared  for  her.    The  baby  was  born  dead — a  tiny,  shapeless  mass. 

This  stat«;  of  things  is  all  too  common. 

Hopelessness — Surroundings. — The  state  of  hopelessness  and  despair  in 
which  these  girls  live  continually,  makes  them  reckless  of  consequences,  and 
large  numbers  commit  suicide  who  are  never  heard  of.  A  West  End  policeman 
assured  us  that  the  number  of  prostitute-suicides  was  terribly  in  advance  of 
anything  guessed  at  by  the  public. 

Depths  to  which  they  Sink. — There  is  scarcely  a  lower  class  of  girls  to  be 
found  than  the  girls  of  Woolwich  "  Dusthole  " — where  one  of  our  Rescue  Slum 
Homes  is  established.  The  women  living  and  following  their  dreadful  busi- 
ness in  this  neighbourhood  are  so  degraded  that  even  abandoned  men  will 
refuse  to  accompany  them  home.  Soldiers  are  forbidden  to  enter  the  place,  or 
to  go  down  the  street,  on  pain  of  twenty-five  days'  imprisonment ;  pickets  are 
stationed  at  either  end  to  prevent  this.  The  streets  are  much  cleaner  than  many 
of  the  rooms  we  have  seen. 

One  public  house  there  is  shut  up  three  or  four  times  in  a  day  sometimes  for 
feai  of  losing  the  licence  through  the  terrible  brawls  which  take  place  within. 
A  policeman  never  goes  down  this  street  alone  at  niglit — one  having  dicl  not 
long  ago  from  injuries  received  there— but  our  two  lasses  go  unharmed  and 
loved  at  all  hours,  spending  every  other  night  always  upon  th  j  streets. 

The  girls  sink  to  the  "  Dustliole"  after  coming  down  several  grades.  There  is 
but  one  on  record  who  came  there  with  beautiful  clotlies,  and  this  poor  girl, 
when  last  seen  by  the  officers,  was  u  pauper  in  the  v.'orkhouse  infirmary  in  a 
wretched  condition. 

The  lowest  class  of  all  is  the  girls  who  stand  at  the  pier-head — these  sell 
themselves  literally  for  a  bare  crust  of  bread  and  sleep  in  the  streets. 

Filth  and  vermin  abound  to  an  extent  to  which  no  one  who  has  not  seen  it 
can  have  any  idea. 

The  "  Dusthole  "  is  only  one,  alas  of  many  similar  districts  in  this  highly 
civilised  land. 

Sickness,  Fr  iendlesjn  .ss — Death. — In  hospitals  it  is  a  known  fact  that  these 
girls  are  not  treated  at  all  like  other  cases  ;  they  inspire  disgust,  and  are  most 
frequently  discharged  before  being  really  cured. 

Scorned  by  their  relations,  and  ashamed  to  make  their  case  known  even  to 
those  who  would  help  them,  unable  longer  to  struggle  out  on  tlie  streets  to  earn 
the  bread  of  shame,  there  are  girls  lying  in  many  a  dark  hole  in  this  big  city 
positively  rotting  away,  and  maintained  by  their  old  companions  on  the  streets. 

Many  are  totally  friendless,  utterly  cast  out  and  left  to  perish  by  relatives  and 
friends.  One  of  this  class  caint-  to  us,  sickened  and  died,  and  we  buried  her, 
being  her  only  followers  to  the  grave. 


!'■! 


III 


( 


■!■?:! 


56 


THE    VICIOUS. 


it;      ic  II  ;;lll 


l^i' 


;i  !* 


It  is  a  sad  story,  but  one  that  must  not  be  forgotten,  for  these 
women  constitute  a  large  standing  army  whose  numbers  no  one  can 
calculate.  All  estimates  that  I  have  seem  purely  imaginary.  The 
ordinary  figure  given  for  London  is  from  60,000  to  80,000.  This 
may.  be  true  if  it  is  meant  to  include  all  habitually  unchaste  women. 
It  is  a  monstrous  exaggeration  if  it  is  meant  to  apply  to  those  who 
make  their  living  solely  and  habitually  by  prostitution.  These  figures, 
however,  only  confuse.  We  shall  have  to  deal  with  hundreds  every 
month,  whatever  estimate  we  take.  How  utterly  unprepared  society 
is  for  any  such  systematic  reformation  may  be  seen  from  the  fact 
that  even  now  at  our  Homes  we  are  unable  to  take  in  all  the  girls 
who  apply.  They  cannot  escape,  even  if  they  would,  for  want  of 
funds  whereby  to  provide  them  a  way  of  release. 


!;,iiii,  \ 


I 


I  ■ 

111  ' 
lit 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE    CRIMINALS. 

One  very  important  section  of  the  denizens  of  Darkest  England 
are  the  criminals  and  the  semi-criminals.  They  are  more  or  less 
predatory,  and  are  at  present  shepherded  by  the  police  and  punished 
by  tlie  gaoler.  Their  numbers  cannot  be  ascertained  with  very 
great  precision,  but  the  following  figures  are  taken  from  the  prison 
returns  of  1889  : — 

The  criminal  classes  of  Great  Britain,  in  round  figures,  sum  up  a 
total  of  no  less  than  90,000  persons,  made  up  as  follows : — 

Convict  prisons  contain     ...  ...  ... 

±^yJ\-C*:  y,  jy  •••  ••«  ••• 

Reformatories  for  children  convicted  of  crime 
Industrial  schools  for  vagrant  and  refractory  children 
Criminal  lunatics  under  restraint 
Known  thieves  at  large      ...  ...  ... 

Known  receivers  of  stolen  goods         ...  ... 

Suspected  persons  ...  ...  ... 


11,660  persons. 

20,883 

1,270 

21,413 

910 

14,747 

1,121 

17,042 

II 

Total        89,046 


The  above  does  not  include  the  great  army  of  known  prostitutes, 
nor  the  keepers  and  owners  of  brothels  and  disorderly  houses,  as  to 
whose  numbers  Government  is  rigidly  silent. 

These  figures  are,  however,  misleading.  They  only  represent  the 
criminals  actually  in  gaol  on  a  given  day.  The  average  gaol  popula- 
tion in  England  and  Wales,  excluding  the  convict  establishments, 
was,  in  1889,  15,119,  but  the  total  number  actually  sentenced  and 
imprisoned  in  local  prisons  was  153,000,  of  whom  25,000  only  came 
on  first  term  sentences  ;  76,300  of  them  had  been  convicted  at  least 
10  times.     But  even  if  we  suppose  that  the  criminal  class  numbers 


M 
tl 

It 


i'&' 


58 


THE    CRIMINALS. 


■i»''i 


no  more  than  90,000,  of  whom  only  35,000  persons  are  at  large,  it  is 
still  a  large  enough  section  of  humanity  to  compel  attention.  90,000 
criminals  represents  a  wreckage  whose  cost  to  the  community  is  very 
imperfectly  estimated  when  we  add  up  the  cost  of  the  prisons,  even 
if  we  add  to  them  the  whole  cost  of  the  police.  The  police  have  so 
many  other  duties  besides  the  shepherding  of  criminals  that  it  is 
unfair  to  saddle  the  latter  with  the  whole  of  the  cost  of  the  constabu- 
lary. The  cost  of  prosecution  and  maintenance  of  criminals,  and 
the  expense  of  the  police  involves  an  annual  outlay  of  ;^4,437,000. 
This,  however,  is  small  compared  with  the  tax  and  toll  which  this 
predatory  horde  inflicts  upon  the  community  on  which  it  is  quartered. 
To  the  loss  caused  by  the  actual  picking  and  stealing  must  be  added 
that  of  the  unproductive  labour  of  nearly  65,000  adults.  Dependent 
upon  these  criminal  adults  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many  women 
and  children,  so  that  it  is  probably  an  under-estimate  to  say  that  this 
list  of  criminals  and  semi-criminals  represents  a  population  of  at  least 
200,060,  who  all  live  more  or  less  at  the  expense  of  society. 

Every  year,  in  the  Metropolitan  district  alone,  66,100  persons  are 
arrested,  of  whom  444  are  arrested  for  trying  to  commit  suicide — life 
having  become  too  unbearable  a  burden.  This  immense  population 
is  partially,  no  doubt,  bred  to  prison,  the  same  as  other  people  are 
bred  to  the  army  and  to  the  bar.  The  hereditary  minal  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  India,  although  it  is  only  in  that  country  that  they 
have  the  engaging  simplicity  to  describe  themselves  frankly  in 
the  census  returns.  But  it  is  recruited  constantly  from  the  outside. 
In  many  cases  this  is  due  to  sheer  starvation.  Fathers  of  the  Church 
have  laid  down  the  law  that  a  man  who  is  in  peril  of  death  from 
hunger  is  entitled  to  take  bread  wherever  he  can  find  it  to  keep  body 
and  soul  together.  That  proposition  is  not  embodied  in  our 
jurisprudence.  Absolute  despair  drives  many  a  man  into  the 
ranks  of  the  criminal  class,  who  would  never  have  fallen  into  the 
category  of  criminal  convicts  if  adequate  provision  had  beeri  made  for 
the  rescue  of  those  drifting  to  doom.  When  once  he  has  fallen,  circum- 
stances seem  to  combine  to  keep  him  there.  As  wounded  and  sickly  j.t?.go 
irc  gored  to  death  by  their  fellows,  so  the  unfortunate  who  bears  the 
orisc  brand  is  hunted  from  pillar  to  post,  until  he  despairs  of  ever 
•"pcraining  his  position,  and  oscillates  between  one  prison  and  another 
for  ih'j  rest  of  his  Jays,  I  gave  in  a  preceding  page  an  account  of 
how  a  mail,  after  trying  in  vain  to  get  work,  fell  before  the  temptation 
CO  steal  in  order  to  escape  starvation.     Here  is  the  sequel  of  that 


''It'  - 

lij 


GAOL    BIRD'S    TALE. 


59 


ifncrs 


.  lan's  story.     After  he  had  stolen  he  ran  away,  ?.nd  thus  describes 
his  experiences  : — 

"  To  fly  was  easy.  To  get  away  from  the  scene  required  very  little  ingenuity, 
but  the  getting  away  from  one  suffering  brouglit  another.  A  straight  look  from 
a  stranger,  a  quick  step  behind  me,  sent  a  chill  through  every  nerve.  Tiie 
cravings  of  hunger  had  been  satisfied,  but  it  was  the  cravings  of  conscience  tiiat 
were  clamorous  now.  h  was  easy  to  get  away  from  the  earthly  consequences  ol 
sin,  but  from  the  fact — never.  And  yet  it  was  the  compulsi.jn  of  circumstances 
tint  made  me  a  criminal,  h  was  neither  from  inward  vicioasness  or  choice,  and 
how  bitter'y  did  I  cast  reproach  on  society  for  allowing  .,dch  an  alternative  to 
offer  itself — '  to  Steal  or  Starve,'  but  there  was  another  alternative  that  here 
offered  itself — eitlier  give  myself  up,  or  go  on  with  the  life  ^f  crime  I  chose  tiie 
former.  I  had  travelled  over  loo  miles  to  get  away  from  the  scene  of  my  tlieft, 
and  I  now  find  myself  outside  the  station  house  at  a  place  where  I  liad  put  in 
my  boyhood  days. 

"  How  many  times  vvi  in  a  lad,  with  wondering  eyes,  and  a  heart  stirred 
with  childhood's  pure  sy.  :pathy,  I  had  watched  tiie  poor  waifs  from  time  to 
time  led  within  its  doors.  It  was  my  *urn  now.  I  entered  the  charge 
room,  and  with  business-lijce  precision  disclosed  my  errand,  viz.  :  that  I  wished 
to  surrender  myself  for  having  committed  a  fi  lony.  My  storv  was  doubted. 
Question  followed  question,  and  confn  niation  must  be  waited.  '  Why  had  I 
surrendered  ? '  'I  was  ",  rum  "un."  '  Cracked.'  '  More  fool  tlian  rogde.'  '  He 
will  be  sorry  when  he  mounts  the  wheel.'  Thcsv  and  such  I  ae  remarks  were 
handed  round  concerning  me.  An  hour  {)assed  by.  An  inspector  enteis,  and 
announces  the  receipt  of  a  telegram.  '  It  is  all  right.  You  can  put  him  dox.-". 
And  turning  to  me,  he  said,  '  They  will  send  for  you  on  Mijiiday,'  and  then  I 
passed  into  the  inner  ward,  and  a  cell.  The  door  closed  with  harsh,  grating 
clang,  and  I  was  left  to  face  the  most  clamorous  accuser  of  all-  >•  own  interior 
self. 

"  Monday  morning,  the  door  opened,  and  a  complacent  ietective  stood 
before  me.  Who  can  tell  the  feeling  as  the  handcuffs  closcil  ound  my  wrists, 
and  we  started  for  town.  As  again  the  charge  was  enterec  id  the  passing  of 
another  night  in  the  cell ,  then  the  morning  of  t/ie  day  arrives  The  gruff,  harsh 
'  Come  on'  of  the  gaoler  roused  me,  and  the  next  momen  !■  mid  myself  in  the 
prison  van,  gazing  through  the  crevices  of  the  floor,  watching  the  stones  flyint; 
as  it  were  from  beneath  our  feet.  Soon  the  court-house  was  reached,  and 
hustled  into  a  common  cell,  I  found  myself  amongst  a  cmwtl  of  boys  and  men, 
all  bound  for  the  'dock.'  One  by  one  the  names  are  called,  and  the  crowd  is 
gradually  thinning  down,  when  the  announcement  of  my  own  name  fell  on  my 
startled  ear,  and  I  found  myself  stumbling  up  the  stairs,  and  linding  myself  in 
daylight  and  the  'dock.'    What  a  terrible  ordeal  it  was.      Tie  ceremony  was 


M! 


II 


II 


I        i' 


r       (i 


i        i 


% 


')\l 


60 


THE    CRIMINALS. 


Ml. 


I  " 


brief  enough;  'Have  you  anything  to  say?'  'Don't  interrupt  his  Worship 
prisoner !  '  Give  over  talking  ! '  'A  month's  hard  labour.'  This  is  about  all  I 
heard,  or  at  any  rate  realised,  until  a  vigorous  push  landed  me  into  the  presence 
of  the  officer  who  booked  the  sentence,  and  then  off"  I  went  to  gaol.  I  need 
not  linger  over  the  formalities  of  the  reception.  A  nightmare  seemed  to  have 
settled  upon  me  as  I  passed  into  the  interior  of  the  correctional. 

"  I  resigned  my  name,  and  I  seemed  to  die  to  myself  for  henceforth.  332B 
disclosed  my  identity  to  myself  and  others. 

"Through  all  the  weeks  that  followed  I  was  like  one  in  a  dream.  Meal  times, 
resting  hours,  as  did  every  other  thing,  came  with  clock-like  precision.  At  times 
I  thought  my  mind  had  gone — so  dull,  so  callous,  so  weary  appeared  the  organs 
of  the  brain.  The  harsh  orders  of  the  gaolers  ;  the  droning  of  the  chaplain  in 
the  chapel ;  the  enquiries  of  the  chief  warder  or  the  governor  in  their  periodical 
visits, — all  seemed  so  meaningless. 

"As  the  day  of  my  liberation  drew  near,  the  horrid  conviction  that  circum- 
stances would  pcriiaps  compel  me  to  return  to  prison  haunted  me,  and  so 
helpless  did  I  feel  at  the  prospects  that  awaited  me  outside,  that  I  dreaded 
release,  which  seemed  but  the  facing  of  an  unsympathetic  world.  The  day 
arrived,  and,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  it  was  with  regret  that  I  left  my  cell.  It 
had  become  my  home,  and  no  home  waited  me  outside. 

"  How  utterly  crushed  I  felt ;  feelings  of  companionship  had  gone  out  to  my 
unfortunate  fellow-pris(jners,  whom  I  had  seen  daily,  but  the  sound  of  whose 
voices  I  had  never  heard,  wliilst  outside  friendships  were  dead,  and  companion- 
ships were  for  ever  broken,  and  I  felt  as  an  outcast  of  society,  with  the  mark  ol 
'gaol  bird'  upon  me,  tluit  I  must  cover  my  face,  and  stand  aside  and  cry 
'  unclean.'     Such  were  my  feelings. 

"  The  morning  of  discharge  came,  and  I  am  once  more  on  the  streets.  My 
scanty  means  scarcely  sufficient  for  two  days'  least  needs.  Could  I  brace  myself 
to  make  another  honest  endeavour  to  start  afresh  ?  Try,  indeed,  I  did.  I  fell 
back  upon  my  antecedents,  and  tried  to  cut  the  dark  passage  out  of  my  life,  but 
straight  came  the  questions  to  me  at  each  application  for  employment,  '  What 
have  you  been  doing  lately  ?  '  '  Where  have  you  been  living  ? '  If  I  evaded 
the  question  it  caused  doubt ;  if  I  answered,  the  only  answer  I  could  give  was 
'  in  gaol,'  and  that  settled  my  <  liances. 

"What,  a  comedy,  after  all,  it  appeared.  I  remember  the  last  words  of  tlio 
chaplain  before  leaving  tlie  prison,  cold  and  precise  in  their  officialism  :  '  Mind 
you  never  come  back  here  again,  young  man.'  And  now,  as  though  in  response 
to  my  earnest  effort  to  keep  from  going  to  prison,  society,  by  its  actions,  cried 
out,  '  Go  back  to  gaol.  There  are  honest  men  enough  to  do  our  work  without 
such  as  you.' 

'  Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  condition.     At  the  end  of  a  few  days,  black  despair 
had  "  wipt  itself  around  every  faculty  of  mind  and  body.     Then  followed  several 


!!        J' 


HELP    FOR    THE    DISCHARGED    PRISONER. 


61 


days  and  nights  with  scarcely  a  bit  of  food  or  a  resting-place.  I  prowled  the 
streets  like  a  dog,  with  this  difference,  that  tiie  dog  has  the  chance  of  helping 
himself,  and  I  had  not.  I  tried  to  forecast  iiow  long  starvation's  fingers  would 
be  in  closing  round  the  throat  they  already  gripped.  So  indifferent  was  I  alike 
to  man  or  God,  as  I  waited  for  the  end." 

In  this  dire  extrermity  the  writer  found  his  way  to  one  of  our 

Shelters,  and  there  fcjnd  God  and  friends  and  hope,  and  once  more 

got  his  feet  on  to  the  ladder  which  leads  upward  from  the  black 

.  gulf  of  starvation  to  competence  and  character,  and  usefulness  and 

heaven. 

As  he  was  then,  however,  there  are  hundreds — nay,  thousands — ■ 
now.  Who  will  give  these  men  a  helping  hand  ?  What  is  to  be 
done  with  them  ?  Would  it  not  be  more  merciful  to  kill  them  off 
at  once  instead  of  sternly  crushing  them  out  of  all  semblance  of 
honest  manhood  ?  Society  recoils  from  such  a  short  cut.  Her 
virtuous  scruples  reminds  me  of  the  subterfuge  by  which  English 
law  evaded  the  veto  on  torture.  Torture  '.'"^^  forbidden,  but  the 
custom  of  placing  an  obstinate  witness  un  iir  i  press  and  slowly 
crushing  him  within  a  hairbreadth  of  dea>;'i  was  legalised  and 
practised.  So  it  is  to-day.  When  the  criminal  comes  out  of  gaol 
the  whole  world  is  often  but  a  press  whose  punishment  is  sharp  and 
cruel  indeed.  Nor  oan  the  victim  escape  even  if  he  opens  his  mourti 
and  speaks. 


I.  I 


1%' 


I  J 


Nil? 


4  U 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  LOST. 


i 


Ml 


n 


i  E 


I 


;  I' 

I 


Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  possibility  of  doing  anything 
with  the  adults,  it  is  universally  admitted  that  there  is  hope  for  the 
children.  "  I  regard  the  existing  generation  ap  lost,"  said  a  leading 
Liberal  statesman.  "  Nothing  can  be  done  witi)  men  and  women 
who  have  grown  up  under  the  present  demoralising  conditions.  My 
only  hope  is  that  the  children  may  have  a  better  chance.  Education 
will  do  much."  But  unfortunately  the  demoralising  circumstances  of 
the  children  are  not  being  improved — are,  indeed,  rather,  in  many 
respe>.t>,  being  made  worse.  The  deterioration  of  our  population  in 
large  t..',7ns  is  one  of  the  most  undisputed  facts  of  social  economics. 
The  country  is  the  breeding  ground  of  healthy  citizens.  But  for 
the  constant  influx  of  Countrydom,  Cockneydom  would  long 
ere  this  have  perished.  But  unfortunately  the  country  is  being 
depopulated.  The  towns,  London  especially,  are  being  gorged  with 
undigested  and  indigestible  masses  of  labour,  and,  as  the  result,  the 
children  suffer  grievously. 

The  town-bred  child  is  at  a  thousand  disadvantages  compared  with 
his  cousin  in  the  country.  But  every  year  there  are  more  town-bred 
children  and  fewer  cousins  in  the  country.  To  rear  healthy  children 
you  want  first  a  home ;  secondly,  milk ;  thirdly,  fresh  air ;  and 
fourthly,  exercise  under  the  green  trees  and  blue  sky.  All  these 
things  every  country  labourer's  child  possesses,  or  used  to  possess. 
For  the  shadow  of  the  City  life  lies  now  upon  the  fields,  and  even  in 
the  remotest  rural  district  the  labourer  who  tends  the  cows  is  often 
denied  the  milk  which  his  children  need.  The  regular  demand  of 
the  great  towns  forestalls  the  claims  of  the  labouring  hind.  Tea  and 
slops  and  beer  take  the  place  of  milk,  and  the  bone  and  sinew  of  the 
next  generation  are  sapped  from  the  cradle.     But  the  country  child, 


SCHOOLED,  NOT  EDUCATED. 


63 


if  he  has  nothing  but  skim  milk,  and  only  a  little  of  that,  has  at  least 
plenty  of  exercise  in  the  fresh  air.  lie  has  healthy  human  rela- 
tions with  his  neighhours.  He  is  looked  after,  and  in  some  sort  of 
fashion  brought  into  contact  with  the  life  of  the  hall,  the  vicarage, 
and  the  farm.  He  lives  a  natural  life  amid  the  birds  and  trees  and 
growing  crops  and  the  animals  of  the  fields.  He  is  not  a  mere 
human  ant,  crawling  on  the  granite  pavement  of  a  great  urban  ants' 
nest,  with  an  unnaturally  developed  nervous  system  and  a  sickly 
constitution. 

But,  it  will  be  said,  the  child  of  to-day  has  the  inestimable 
advantage  of  Education.  No ;  he  has  not.  Educated  the  children 
are  not.  They  arc  pressed  through  "  standards,"  which  exact  a 
certain  acquaintance  with  A  B  C  and  pothooks  and  figures,  but 
educated  they  are  not  in  the  sense  of  the  development  of  their 
latent  capacities  so  as  to  make  tlicm  capable  for  the  discharge  of 
their  duties  in  life.  The  new  generation  can  read,  no  doubt. 
Otheiwise,  where  would  be  the  sale  of  "  Sixteen  String  Jack," 
"  Dick  Turpin,"  and  the  like  ?  But  take  the  girls.  Who  can 
pretend  that  the  girls  whom  our  schools  arc  now  turning  out  are 
half  as  well  educated  for  the  work  of  life  as  their  grandmothers 
were  at  the  same  age  ?  How  many  of  all  these  mothers  of  the 
future  know  how  to  bake  a  loaf  or  wash  their  clothes  ?  Except 
minding  the  baby — a  task  that  cannot  be  evaded — what  domestic 
training  have  they  received  to  qualify  them  for  being  in  the  future 
the  mothers  of  babies  themselves  ? 

And  even  the  schooling,  such  as  it  is,  at  what  an  expense  is  it 
often  imparted  !  The  rakings  of  the  human  cesspool  are  brought 
into  the  school-room  and  mixed  up  with  your  children.  Your  little 
ones,  who  never  heard  a  foul  word  and  who  are  not  only  innocent, 
but  ignorant,  of  all  the  horrors  of  vice  and  sin,  sit  for  hours  side  by 
side  with  little  ones  whose  parents  are  habitually  drunk,  and 
play  with  others  whose  ideas  of  merriment  are  gained  from  the 
familiar  spectacle  of  the  nightly  debauch  by  which  their  mothers 
earn  the  family  bread.  It  is  good,  no  doubt,  to  learn  the 
ABC,  but  it  is  not  so  good  that  in  acquiring  these  indispensable 
rudiments,  your  children  should  also  acquire  the  vocabulary  of  the 
harlot  and  the  corner  boy.  I  speak  onl}'  of  what  I  know,  and  of 
that  which  has  been  brought  home  to  me  as  a  matter  of  repeated 
complaint  by  my  Officers,  when  I  say  that  the  obscenity  of  the  talk 
of  many  of  the  children  of  some  of  our  public  schools  could  hardly 


'I  i 


1  I    '  1 


'i     I 


li         I 


r: 


Hi  „l 


64 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  LOST. 


it' 


.     . 


It 


be  outdone  even  in  Sodom  and  Gomorrlia.  Cliiklisli  innocence  is 
very  beautiful  ;  but  the  bloom  is  soon  destroyed,  v^.nd  it  is  a  cruel 
awakening  for  a  mother  to  discover  that  her  tenderly  r  urtured  boy, 
or  her  carefully  guarded  daughter,  lias  been  initiated  by  a  companion 
into  the  mysteries  of  abomination  that  are  concealed  in  the  phrase — 
a  house  of  ill-fame. 

The  home  is  largely  destroyed    where  the   motlicr  follows   the 
father  into  the  factory,  and  where  the  hours  of  labour  are  so  long 
that  they  have  no  time  to  see  their  children.     The  omnibus  drivers 
of  London,  for  instance,  what  time  have  they  for  discharging  the  daily 
duties  of  parentage  to  their  little  ones  ?     How  can  a  man  who  is  on  his 
omnibus  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a  day  have  time  to  be  a  father 
to  his  children  in  any  sense  of  the  word?     lie  has  hardly  a  chance 
to  see  them  except  when  they  are  asleep.     Even  the  Sabbath,  that 
blessed  institution  which  is  one  of  the  sheet  anchors  of  human  exist- 
ence,  is   encroached    upon.     Many   of  the    new   industries   which 
have  been   started  or  developed  since   I   was  a  boy  ignore   man's 
need  of  one  day's  rest  in  seven.     The  railway,  the  post-office,  the 
tramwaj'  all  compel  some  of  their  employes  to  be  content  with  less 
than  the   divinely  appointed  minimum  of  leisure.      In  the  country 
darkness  restores  the  labouring   father  to  his  little  ones.     In  the 
town  gas  and  the  electric  light  enables   the  employer  to  rob  the 
children  of  the  whole  of  their  father's  waking  hours,  and  in  some 
cases  he  takes  the  mother's  also.     Under  some  of  the  conditions  of 
modern  industry,  children  are   not   so   much  born  into  a  home  as 
they  are  spawned  into  the  world  like  fish,  with  the  results  which 
we  see. 

The  decline  of  natural  affection  follows  inevitably  from  the  sub- 
stitution of  the  fish  relationship  for  that  of  the  human.  A  father 
who  never  dandles  his  child  on  his  knee  cannot  have  a  very  keen 
sense  of  the  responsibihties  of  paternity.  In  the  rush  and  pressure 
of  our  competitive  City  life,  thousands  of  men  have  not  time  to  be 
fathers.  Sires,  yes  ;  fathers,  no.  It  will  take  a  good  deal  of  school- 
master to  make  up  for  that  change.  If  this  be  the  case,  even  with 
the  children  constantly  employed,  it  can  be  imagined  what  kind  of  a 
home  life  is  possessed  by  the  children  of  the  tramp,  the  odd  jobber, 
the  thief,  and  the  harlot.  For  all  these  people  have  children, 
although  they  have  no  homes  in  which  to  rear  them.  Not  a  bird  in 
all  the  woods  or  fields  but  prepares  some  kind  of  a  nest  in  which  to 
hatch  and  rear  its  young,  even  if  it  be  but  a  hole  in  the  sand  or  a 


THE  CURSE  UPON  THE  CRADLE. 


66 


few  c?rossed  sticks  in  the  bush.     But  how  many  vnung  ones  amongst 
our  people  are  hatched  before  any  nest  is  ready  to  receive  them? 

Think  of  tiie  muhitudes  of  children  born  in  our  Aorkhouses, 
children  of  whom  it  may  be  said  "  they  are  conceived  in  sin  and 
shapen  in  iniquity,"  and,  as  a  punishment  of  the  sins  of  the  parents, 
branded  from  birth  as  bastards,  woi  ;ie  than  fatherlc'^,  homeless,  and 
friendless,  "  damned  into  an  evil  world,"  in  which  even  tiiose  who 
ha\  .' all  the  advantages  of  a  good  parentage  and  a  careful  training 
find  it  hard  enough  to  make  th'^ir  way.  Sometimes,  it  is  true, 
the  passionate  love  of  the  deserted  mother  for  the  child  which  has 
been  the  visible  symbol  and  the  'errible  result  of  her  undoi'^s; 
stands  between  the  little  om  and  all  its  enemies.  15ut  think  ho\* 
often  the  mother  regards  the  advent  of  her  cliild  with  loatl  iiig  and 
horror;  how  the  discovery  that  she  is  about  to  become  a  mother 
aftects  her  like  a  nightmaK'  ;  and  how  nothing  but  the  dread  of  the 
hangman's  rope  keeps  her  from  strangling  the  babe  on  the  very  hour 
t)f  its  birth.  What  chances  has  such      hild  ?  And  there  are  many  such. 

In  a  certain  country  that  1  will  not  name  there  exists  a  scienti- 
fically arranged  system  of  infanticide  cloaked  under  t lie  garb  of  pliilan- 
thropy.  Gigantic  foundling  establishments  e.\ibt  in  its  principal  cities, 
where  every  comfort  and  scientific  improvement  is  provided  foi  he 
desertedchildren,withthcresult  thai  oiic-halfof  them  die.  The  mothers 
are  spared  the  crime.  The  State  assumes  the  responsibility.  We  do 
something  Hke  that  here,  but  our  foundling  asylums  are  the  Street,  the 
Workhouse,  and  the  Grave.  When  an  English  Judge  tells  us,  as 
Mr.  Justice  Wills  did  the  other  day,  that  there  were  any  number  of 
parents  who  would  kill  their  children  for  a  few  pounds'  insurance 
money,  we  can  form  some  idea  of  the  horrors  of  the  existence  into 
which  many  of  the  children  of  this  highly  favoured  land  are  ushered 
at  their  birth. 

The  overcrowded  homes  of  the  poor  comp  I  the  children  to  witness 
everything.  Sexual  morality  often  comes  to  have  no  meaning  to  them. 
Incest  is  so  familiar  as  hardly  to  call  for  remark.  The  bitter  poverty 
of  the  poor  compels  them  to  leave  their  children  half  fed.  There  are  few 
more  grotesque  picture  in  the  history  of  civilisation  than  that  of  the  com- 
pulsory attendance  of  children  at  school,  faint  with  hunger  because  they 
had  no  breakfast,  and  not  sure  whether  they  would  even  secure  a 
dry  crust  for  dinner  when  their  morning's  quantum  ■  f  education  had 
been  duly  imparted.  Children  thus  hungered,  thus  housed,  and  thus 
left  to  grow  up  as  best  they  can  without  being  fathered  or  mothered, 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  LOST. 


are  not,  educate  them  as  you  will,  exactly  the  most  promising 
material  for  the  making  of  the  future  citizens  and  rulers  of  the 
Empire. 

What,  then,  is  the  ground  for  hope  that  if  we  leave  things  alone  the 
new  generation  will  be  better  than  their  elders  ?  To  me  it  seems 
that  the  truth  is  rather  the  other  way.  The  lawlessness  of  our  lads, 
the  increased  license  of  our  girls,  the  general  shiftlessness  from  the 
home-making  point  of  view  of  the  product  of  our  factories  and  schools 
are  far  from  reassuring.  Our  young  people  have  never  learned  to 
obey.  The  fighting  gangs  of  half-grown  lads  in  Lisson  Grove,  and 
the  scuttlers  of  Manchester  are  ugly  symptoms  of  a  social  condition 
that  will  not  grow  better  by  being  left  alone. 

It  is  the  home  that  has  been  destroyed,  and  with  the  home  the 
home-like  virtues.  It  is  the  dis-homed  multitude,  nomadic,  hungry, 
that  is  rearing  an  undisciplined  population,  cursed  from  birth  with 
hereditary  weakness  of  body  and  hereditary  faults  of  character. 
It  is  idle  to  hope  to  mend  matters  by  taking  the  children  and 
bundling  them  up  in  barracks.  A  child  brought  up  in  an  institution 
is  too  often  only  half-human,  having  never  known  a  mother's  love 
and  a  father's  care.  To  men  and  women  who  are  without  homes, 
children  must  be  more  or  less  of  an  incumbrance.  Their  advent 
is  regarded  with  impatience,  and  often  it  is  averted  by  crime.  The 
unwelcome  little  stranger  is  badly  cared  for,  badly  fed,  and  allowed 
every  chance  to  die.  Nothing  is  worth  doing  to  increase  his 
chances  of  living  that  does  not  Reconstitute  the  Home.  But  between 
us  and  that  ideal  how  vast  is  the  gulf!  It  will  have  to  be  bridged, 
however,  if  anything  practical  is  to  be  done. 


If! 


CHAPTER  IX. 
IS  THERE  NO  HELP? 

It  may  be  said  by  those  who  have  followed  me  to  this  point  that 
while  it  is  quite  true  that  there  are  many  who  are  out  of  work,  and 
not  less  true  that  there  are  many  who  sleep  on  the  Embankment  and 
elsewhere,  the  law  has  provided  a  remedy,  or  if  not  a  remedy, 
at  least  a  method,  of  dealing  with  these  sufferers  which  is  sufRcient. 
The  Secretary  of  the  Charity  Organisation  Society  assured  one  of 
my  Officers,  who  went  to  inquire  for  his  opinion  on  the  subject, 
"  that  no  further  machinery  was  necessary.  All  that  was  needed  in 
this  direction  they  already  h  d  ih  working  order,  and  to  create 
any  further  machinery  wouU  do  more  harm  than  good." 

Now,  what  is  the  existing  machinery  by  which  Society,  whether 
through  the  organisation  of  the  State,  or  by  individual  endeavour, 
attempts  to  deal  with  the  submerged  residuum  ?  I  had  intended  at 
one  time  to  have  devoted  considerable  space  to  the  description  of  the 
existing  agencies,  together  with  certain  observations  which  have 
been  forcibly  impressed  upon  my  mind  as  to  their  failure  and  its 
cause.  The  necessity,  however,  of  subordinating  everything  to  the 
supreme  purpose  of  this  book,  which  is  to  endeavour  to  show  how 
light  can  be  let  into  the  heart  of  Darkest  England,  compels  me  to 
pass  rapidly  over  this  department  of  the  subject,  merely  glancing  as 
I  go  at  the  well-meaning,  but  more  or  less  abortive,  attempts  to  cope 
with  this  great  and  appalling  evil. 

The  first  place  must  naturally  be  given  to  the  administration  of 
the  Poor  Law.  Legally  the  State  accepts  the  responsibility  of 
providing  food  and  shelter  for  every  man,  woman,  or  child  who  is 
utterly  destitute.  This  responsibility  it,  however,  practically  shirks 
by  the  imposition  of  conditions  on  the  claimants  of  relief  that  are 
hateful  and  repulsive,  if  not  impossible.     As  to  the  method  of  Poor 


1^' 


im 


I  If 


68 


IS    THERE    NO    HELP? 


K  I 


Law  administration  in  dealing  with  inmates  of  workhouses  or  in  the 
distribution  of  outdoor  relief,  I  say  nothing.  Both  of  these  raise 
great  questions  which  lie  outside  my  immediate  purpose.  All  that 
I  need  to  do  is  to  indicate  the  limitations — it  may  be  the  necessary 
limitations — under  which  the  Poor  Law  operates.  No  Englishman  can 
come  upon  the  rates  so  long  as  he  has  anything  whatever  left  to  call 
his  own.  When  long-continued  destitution  has  been  carried  on  to  the 
bitter  end,  when  piece  by  piece  every  article  of  domestic  furniture  has 
been  sold  or  pawned,  when  all  efforts  to  procure  employment  have 
failed,  and  when  you  have  nothing  left  except  the  clothes  in  which  you 
stand,  then  you  can  present  yourself  before  the  relieving  officer  and 
secure  your  lodging  in  the  workhouse,  the  administration  of  which 
varies  infinitely  according  to  the  disposition  of  the  Board  of  Guardians 
under  whose  control  it  happens  to  be. 

If,  however,  you  have  not  sunk  to  such  despair  as  to  be  willing  to 
barter  your  liberty  for  the  sake  of  food,  clothing,  and  shelter  in 
the  Workhouse,  but  are  only  temporarily  out  of  employment, 
seeking  work,  then  you  go  to  the  Casual  Ward.  There  you  are 
taken  in,  and  provided  for  on  the  principle  of  making  it  as  dis- 
agreeable as  possible  for  yourself,  in  order  to  deter  you  from 
again  accepting  the  hospitality  of  the  rates, — and  of  course  in 
defence  of  this  a  good  deal  can  be  said  by  the  Political  Economist. 
But  what  seems  utterly  indefensible  is  the  careful  precautions  which 
are  taken  to  render  it  impossible  for  the  unemployed  Casual  to 
resume  promptly  after  his  night's  rest  the  search  for  work.  Under 
the  existing  regulations,  if  you  are  compelled  to  seek  refuge  on 
Monday  night  in  the  Casual  Ward,  you  are  bound  to  remain  there 
at  least  till  Wednesday  morning. 

The  theory  of  the  system  is  this,  that  individuals  casually  poor 
and  out  of  work,  being  destitute  and  without  shelter,  may  upon 
application  receive  shelter  for  the  night,  supper  and  a  breakfast,  and 
in  return  for  this  shall  perform  a  task  of  work,  not  necessarily  in 
repayment  for  the  relief  received,  but  simply  as  a  test  of  their 
willingness  to  work  for  their  living.  The  work  given  is  the  same  as 
that  given  to  felons  in  gaol,  oakum-picking  and  stone-breaking. 

The  work,  too,  is  excessive  in  proportion  to  what  is  received. 
Four  pounds  of  oakum  is  a  great  task  to  an  expert  and  an 
old  hand.  To  a  novice  it  can  only  be  accomplished  with  the 
greatest  difficulty,  if  indeed  it  can  be  done  at  all.  It  is  even 
in  excess  of    the  amount  demanded    from    a    criminal    in    gaol. 


THE    CASUAL    WARD. 


69 


The  stone-breaking  test  is  monstrous.  Half  a  ton  of  stone  from  any 
man  in  return  for  partially  supplying  the  cravings  of  hunger  is  an 
outrage  which,  if  we  read  of  as  having  occurred  in  Russia  or  Siberia, 
would  find  Exeter  Hall  crowded  with  an  indignant  audience,  and 
Hyde  Park  filled  with  strong  oratory.  But  because  this  system 
exists  at  our  own  doors,  very  little  notice  is  taken  of  it.  These 
tasks  are  expected  from  all  comers,  starved,  ill-clad,  half-fed 
creatures  from  the  streets,  foot-sore  and  worn  out,  and  yet  unless  it 
is  done,  the  alternative  is  the  magistrate  and  the  gaol.  The  old 
system  was  bad  enough,  which  demanded  the  picking  of  one  pound 
of  oakum.  As  soon  as  this  task  was  accomplished,  which  generally 
kept  them  till  the  middle  of  next  day,  it  was  thus  rendered  im- 
possible for  them  to  seek  work,  and  they  were  forced  to  spend 
another  night  in  the  ward.  The  Local  Government  Board,  however, 
stepped  in,  and  the  Casual  was  ordered  to  be  detained  for  the  whole 
day  and  the  second  night,  the  amount  of  labour  required  from  him 
being  increased  four-fold. 

Under  the  present  system,  therefore,  the  penalty  for  seeking  shelter 
from  the  streets  is  a  whole  day  and  two  nights,  with  an  almost 
impossible  task,  which,  failing  to  do,  the  victira  is  liable  to  be  dragged 
before  a  magistrate  and  committed  to  gaol  as  a  rogue  and  vagabond, 
while  in  the  Casual  Ward  their  treatment  is  practically  that  of  a 
criminal.  They  sleep  in  a  cell  with  an  apartment  at  the  back,  in 
which  the  work  is  done,  receiving  at  night  half  a  pound  of  gruel  and 
eight  ounces  of  bread,  and  next  morning  the  same  for  breakfast,  with 
half  a  pound  of  oakum  and  stones  to  occupy  himself  for  a  day. 

The  beds  are  mostly  of  the  plank  typ^j,  the  coverings  scant,  the 
comfort  nil.  Be  it  remembered  that  this  is  the  treatment  meted 
out  to  those  who  are  supposed  to  be  Casual  poor,  in  temporary 
difficulty,  walking  from  place  to  place  seeking  some  employment. 

The  treatment  of  the  women  is  as  follows  :  Each  Casual  has  to 
stay  in  the  Casual  Wards  two  nights  and  one  day,  during  which 
time  they  have  to  pick  2  lb.  of  oakum  or  go  to  the  wash-tub  and 
work  out  the  time  there.  While  at  the  wash-tub  they  are  allowed 
to  wash  their  own  clothes,  but  not  otherwise.  If  seen  more  than 
once  in  the  same  Casual  Ward,  they  are  detained  three  days  by 
order  of  the  inspector  each  time  seen,  or  if  sleeping  twice  in  the 
same  month  the  master  of  the  ward  has  power  to  detain  them  three 
days.  There  are  four  inspectors  who  visit  different  Casual  Wards  ; 
and  if  the  Casual  is  seen  by  any  of  the  inspectors  (who  in  turn  visit 


i  II 


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m 


ili 


70 


IS    THERE    NO    HELP? 


all  the  Casual  Wards)  at  any  of  the  wards  they  have  previously 
visited  they  are  detained  three  days  in  each  one.  The  inspector, 
who  is  a  male  person,  visits  the  wards  at  all  unexpected  hours,  even 
.  islting  while  the  females  are  in  bed.  The  beds  are  in  some  wards 
composed  of  straw  and  two  rugs,  in  others  cocoanut  fibre  and  two 
rugs.  The  Casuals  rise  at  5.45  a.m.  and  go  to  bed  7  p.m.  If  they 
do  not  finish  picking  their  oakum  before  7  p.m.,  they  stay  up  till 
they  do.  If  a  Casual  does  not  come  to  the  ward  before  12.30, 
midnight,  they  keep  them  one  day  extra.  The  way  in  which  this 
operates,  however,  can  be  best  understood  by  the  following  state- 
ments, made  by  those  who  have  been  in  Casual  Wards,  and  who 
can,  therefore,  speak  from  experience  as  to  how  the  system  affects 
the  individual : — 

J.  C.  knows  Casi-al  Wards  pretty  well.  Has  been  in  St.  Giles,  White- 
chapel,  St.  George's,  Paddington,  Marylebone,  Mile  End.  They  vary  a  little 
in  detail,  but  as  a  rule  the  doors  open  at  6 ;  you  walk  in  ;  they  tell  you  what 
the  work  is,  aiid  that  if  you  fail  to  do  it,  you  will  be  liable  to  imprisonment. 
Then  you  bathe.  Some  places  the  water  is  dirty.  Three  persons  as  a  rule 
wash  in  one  water.  At  Whitechapel  (been  there  three  times)  it  has  always 
been  dirty ;  also  at  St.  George's.  I  had  no  bath  at  Mile  End ;  they  were  short 
of  water.  If  you  complain  they  take  no  notice.  You  then  tie  your  clothes  in 
a  bundle,  and  they  give  you  a  nightshirt.  At  most  places  they  serve  supper  to 
the  men,  who  have  to  go  to  bed  and  eat  it  there.  Some  beds  are  in  cells ;  some 
in  large  rooms.  You  get  up  at  6  a.m.  and  do  the  task.  The  amount  of  stone- 
breaking  is  too  much  ;  and  the  oakum-picking  is  also  heavy.  The  food  differs. 
At  St.  Giles,  the  gruel  left  over-night  is  boiled  up  for  breakfast,  and  is  conse- 
quently sour ;  the  bread  is  puffy,  full  of  holes,  and  don't  weigh  the  regulation 
amount.  Dinner  is  only  8  ounces  of  bread  and  i^  ounce  of  cheese,  and  if 
that's  short,  how  can  anybody  do  their  work  ?  They  will  give  you  water  to  drink 
if  you  ring  the  cell  bell  for  it,  that  is,  they  will  tell  you  to  wait,  and  bring  it 
in  about  half  an  hour.  There  are  a  good  lot  of  "  moochers  "  go  to  Casual  Wards, 
but  there  are  large  numbers  of  men  who  only  want  work. 

J.  D.  ;  age  25 ;  Londoner ;  can't  get  work,  tried  hard ;  been  refused  work 
several  times  on  account  of  having  no  settled  residence ;  looks  suspicious,  they 
think,  to  have  "  no  home."  Seems  a  decent,  willing  man.  Had  two  penny- 
worth of  soup  this  morning,  which  has  lasted  all  day.  Earned  is.  6d.  yesterday, 
bill  distributing,  nothing  the  day  before.  Been  in  good  many  London  Casual 
Wards.  Thinks  they  are  no  good,  because  they  keep  him  all  day,  when  he  might 
be  seeking  work.  Don't  want  shelter  in  day  time,  wants  work.  If  he  goes  in  twice 
in  a  month  to  the  same  Casual  Ward,  they  detain  him  four  days.  Considers  the 
food  decidedly  insufficient  to  do  the  required  amount  of  work.     If  the  work  is 


li 


THE    EXPERIENCES    CF   CASUALS. 


71 


not  done  to  time,  you  are  liable  to  21  days'  imprisonment.  Get  badly  treated 
some  places,  especially  where  there  is  a  bullying  superintendent.  Has  done  21 
days  for  absolutely  refusing  to  do  the  work  on  such  low  diet,  when  unfit.  Can't 
get  justice,  doctor  always  sides  with  superinttndenl. 

J.  S. ;  odd  jobber.  Is  working  at  board  carrying,  when  he  can  get  it.  There's 
quite  a  rush  for  it  at  is.  2d.  a  day.  Carried  a  couple  of  parcels  yesterday,  got 
5d.  for  them  ;  also  had  a  bit  of  bread  and  meat  given  him  by  a  working  man,  so 
altogether  had  an  excellent  day.  Sometimes  goes  all  day  without  food,  and 
plenty  more  do  the  same.  Sleeps  on  Embankment,  and  now  an  nen  in  Casual 
Ward.  Latter  is  clean  and  comfortable  enough,  but  they  keep  u  in  all  day  ; 
that  means  no  chance  of  getting  work.  Was  a  clerk  once,  but  go  out  of  a  job, 
and  couldn't  get  another  ;  there  are  so  many  clerks. 

"  A  Tramp  "  says  :  "  I've  been  in  most  Casual  Wards  in  London  ;  was  in  the 
one  in  Macklin  Street,  Drury  Lane,  last  week.  They  keep  you  two  nights  and 
a  day,  and  more  than  that  if  they  recognise  you.  You  have  to  break  10  cwt.  of 
stone,  or  pick  four  pour.ds  of  oakum.  Both  are  hard.  About  thirty  a  night  go 
to  Macklin  St-eet.  The  food  is  i  pint  gruel  and  6  oz.  bread  for  breakfast ;  8  oz. 
bread  and  i^  oz.  cheese  for  dinner;  tea  same  as  breakfast.  No  supper.  It  is 
not  enough  to  do  the  work  on.  Then  you  are  obliged  to  bathe,  of  course ; 
sometimes  three  will  bathe  in  one  water,  and  if  you  complain  they  turn  nasty, 
and  ask  if  you  are  come  to  a  palace.  Mitcham  Workhouse  I've  been  in  ;  grub 
is  good  ;  i^  pint  gruel  and  8  oz.  bread  for  breakfast,  and  same  for  supper. 

F.  K.  W.  ;  baker.  Been  board-carrying  to-day,  earned  one  shilling,  hours 
9  till  5.  I've  been  on  this  kind  of  life  six  years.  Used  to  work  in  a  bakery, 
but  had  congestion  of  the  brain,  and  couldn't  stand  the  heat.  I've  been  in  about 
every  Casual  Ward  in  England.  They  treat  men  too  harshly.  Have  to  work 
very  hard,  too.  Has  had  to  work  whilst  really  unfit.  At  Peckham  (known  as 
Camberwell)  Union,  was  quite  unable  to  do  it  through  weakness,  and  appealed 
to  the  doctor,  who,  ta!  ng  i  ■•  part  of  the  other  officials,  as  usual,  refused  to 
allow  him  to  forego  the  work.  Cheeked  the  doctor,  telling  him  he  didn't  under- 
stand his  work  ;  result,  got  three  days'  imprisonment.  Before  going  to  a  Casual 
Ward  at  all,  I  spent  seven  consecutive  nights  on  the  Embankment,  and  at  last 
went  to  the  Ward. 

The  result  of  the  deliberate  policy  of  making  the  night  refuge 
for  the  unemployed  labourer  as  disagreeable  as  possible,  and  of 
placing  as  many  obstacles  as  possible  in  the  way  of  his  finding  work 
the  following  day,  is,  no  doubt,  to  minimise  the  number  of  Casuals, 
and  without  question  succeeds.  In  the  whole  of  London  the  number 
of  Casuals  in  the  warus  at  night  is  only  1,136.  That  is  to 
say,  the  conditions  which  are  imposed  are  so  severe,  that  the 
majority  of  the  Out-of- Works  prefer  to  sleep  in  the  open  air,  taking 


!:  { 

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.  ■  S' 

If,: 

■  1 1- 


■C'r- 


72 


:S    THERE    NO    HELP? 


their  chance  of  tli  incienicncy  and  niut;il)ility  of  our  English 
weather,  rather  than  go  through  the  expcricmc  of  tl;c  Casual  Ward. 

It  seems  to  mc  that  such  a  mode  of  coping  with  distress  does  not 
so  much  meet  the  difficulty  as  evade  it.  It  is  obvious  that  an 
apparatus,  wliich  only  provides  for  1,136  persons  per  night,  is 
utterly  unable  to  deal  with  the  numbers  of  the  homeless  Oui-of-Works. 
But  if  by  some  miracle  we  could  use  the  Casual  Wards  as  a  means 
of  providing  for  all  those  who  arc  seeking  work  from  day  to  day, 
without  a  place  in  which  to  lay  their  heads,  save  the  kerbstone  of  the 
pavement  or  llic  back  of  a  seat  on  the  Embankment,  they  would  utterly 
fail  to  have  any  appreciable  eiVcct  upon  the  mass  of  human  misery 
with  which  we  have  to  deal.  For  this  reason  ;  the  administration 
of  the  Casual  Wards  is  mechanical,  perfunctory,  and  formal.  Each  of 
the  Casuals  is  to  the  Ofliccr  in  Charge  merely  one  Casual  the  more. 
There  is  no  atte  .pt  whatever  to  do  more  tli.ni  provide  lor  them 
merely  the  indispensable  requisites  of  existence.  There  has  never 
been  any  attempt  to  treat  tlicni  as  human  bcini^s,  to  deal  with 
them  as  individuals,  to  appeal  to  their  hearts,  to  help  them  on 
their  legs  again.  Tlicy  are  simply  units,  no  more  thought  o' 
and  cared  for  than  if  they  were  so  many  colTcc  beans  passing 
through  a  coffee  mill ;  and  as  the  net  result  of  all  my  experience 
and  observation  of  men  and  things,  I  must  assert  unhesitatingly 
that  anything  which  dehumanises  the  individual,  anytliing  which 
treats  a  man  as  if  he  were  only  a  number  of  a  series  or  a  cog 
in  a  wheel,  without  any  regard  to  the  cliaracter,  the  aspirations, 
the  temptations,  and  the  idio.syncrasies  of  the  man,  must  utterly 
fail  as  a  remedial  agency.  The  Casual  Ward,  at  the  best,  is  merely 
a  squalid  resting  place  lor  the  Casual  in  his  downward  career.  If 
anything  is  to  be  done  for  these  men,  it  must  he  done  by  other 
agents  than  those  which  prevail  in  the  administration  of  the  Poor 
Laws. 

The  second  methcd  in  which  Society  endeavours  to  do  its  duty  to 
the  lapsed  masses  is  by  the  miscellaneous  and  heterogeneous  efforts 
which  are  clubbed  together  under  the  generic  head  of  Charity.  I'ar 
be  it  from  me  to  say  one  wcrd  in  disparagement  of  any  effort  that 
is  prompted  by  a  sincere  desire  to  alleviate  the  misery  of  our  fellow 
creatures,  but  the  most  charitable  are  those  who  most  deplore  the 
utter  failure  which  has,  up  till  liow,  attended  all  their  efforts  to  do 
more  than  temporarily  alleviate  pain,  or  effect  an  occasional  im- 
provement in  the  concition  of  indiv-duals. 


i  r 


CHAOTIC    CHARITY. 


78 


There  are  many  institutions,  very  excellent  in  their  way,  without 
which  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  society  could  get  on  at  all,  but  when  they 
have  done  their  best  there  still  remains  this  great  and  appalling  mass  of 
human  misery  on  our  hands,  a  perfect  quagmire  of  Human  Sludge. 
They  may  ladle  out  individuals  here  and  there,  but  to  drain  the  whole 
bog  is  an  effort  which  seems  to  be  beyond  the  imagination  of  most  of 
those  whr  spend  their  lives  in  philanthropic  work.  It  is  no  doubt  better 
than  nothing  to  take  the  individual  and  feed  him  from  day  to  day,  to 
bandage  up  his  wounds  and  heal  his  diseases  ;  but  you  may  go  on 
doing  that  for  ever,  if  you  do  not  do  more  than  that ;  and  the  worst 
of  it  is  that  all  authorities  agree  that  if  you  only  do  that  you  will 
probably  increase  the  evil  with  which  you  are  attempting  to  deal, 
and  that  you  had  much  better  let  the  whole  thing  alone. 

There  is  at  present  no  attempt  at  Concerted  Action.  Each  one 
deals  with  the  case  immediately  before  him,  and  the  result  is  what 
might  be  expected  ;  there  is  a  great  expenditure,  but  the  gains  are, 
alas  !  very  small.  The  fact,  however,  that  so  much  is  subscribed  for 
the  temporary  relief  and  the  mere  alleviation  of  distress  justifies  my 
confidence  that  if  a  Practical  Scheme  of  dealing  with  this  misery  in  a 
permanent,  comprehensive  fashion  be  discovered,  there  will  be  no  lack 
of  the  sinews  of  war.  It  is  well,  no  doubt,  sometimes  to  administer 
an  anaesthetic,  but  the  Cure  of  the  Patient  is  worth  ever  so  much 
more,  and  the  latter  is  the  object  which  we  must  constantly  set 
before  us  in  approaching  this  problem. 

The  third  method  by  which  Society  professes  to  attempt  the  re- 
clamation of  the  lost  is  by  the  rough,  rude  surgery  of  the  Gaol. 
Upon  this  a  whole  treatise  might  be  written,  but  when  it  was 
finished  it  would  be  nothing  more  than  a  demonstration  that  our 
Prison  system  has  practically  missed  aiming  at  that  which  should  be 
the  first  essential  of  every  system  of  punishment.  It  is  not  Refor- 
matory, it  is  not  worked  as  if  it  were  intended  to  be  Reformatory.  It 
is  punitive,  and  only  punitive.  The  whole  administration  needs  to  be 
reformed  from  top  to  bottom  in  accordance  with  this  fundamental  prin- 
ciple, viz.,  that  while  every  prisoner  should  be  subjected  to  that 
measure  ot  punishment  which  shall  mark  a  due  sense  of  his  crime 
both  to  himself  and  society,  the  main  object  should  be  to  rouse  in  his 
mind  the  desire  to  lead  an  honest  life  ;  and  to  effect  that  change  in 
his  disposition  and  character  which .  will  send  him  forth  to  put 
that  desire  into  practice.  At  present,  every  Prison  is  more 
or  less   a   Training   School    for  Crime,   an    introduction   to    the 


IM- 


i : 


1  ( 


J 


il 


h  '  1 


74 


IS    THERE    NO    HELP? 


society  of  ciiminals,  the  petrifaction  of  any  lingering  human 
feeling  and  a  very  Bastille  of  Despair.  The  prison  brand 
is  stamped  upon  those  who  go  in,  and  that  so  deeply,  that 
it  seems  as  if  it  clung  to  them  for  life.  Vo  enter  I'rison  once, 
means  in  many  cases  an  almost  certain  return  there  at  au  early 
date.  All  this  has  to  be  changed,  and  will  be,  when  once  the 
work  of  Prison  Reform  is  taken  in  hand  by  men  who  understand 
the  subject,  who  believe  in  the  reformation  of  human  nature  in  every 
form  which  its  depravity  can  assume,  and  who  arc  in  full  sympathy 
with  the  class  for  whose  benefit  they  labour ;  and  when  those 
charged  directly  with  the  care  of  criminals  seek  to  wotk  out  their 
regeneration  in  the  same  spirit. 

The  question  of  Prison  Reform  is  all  the  more  important  because  it 
is  only  by  the  agency  of  the  Gaol  that  Society  attempts  to  deal  with 
its  hopeless  cases.  If  a  woman,  driven  mad  with  shame,  flings 
herself  into  the  river,  and  is  Jfished  out  alive,  we  clap  her  into  Prison 
on  a  charge  of  attempted  suicide.  If  a  man,  despairing  of  work  and 
gaunt  with  hunger,  helps  himself  to  food,  it  is  to  the  same  reformatory 
agency  that  he  is  forthvvMth  subjected.  The  rough  and  ready  surgery 
with  which  we  deal  with  our  social  patients  recalls  the  simple 
method  of  the  early  physicians.  The  tradition  still  lingers  among 
old  people  of  doctors  who  prescribed  bleeding  for  every  ailment, 
and  of  keepers  of  asylums  whose  one  idea  of  ministering  to  a 
mind  diseased  was  to  put  the  body  intc  a  strait  waistcoat.  Modern 
science  laughs  to  scorn  these  simple  "  remedies"  of  an  unscientific  age, 
and  declares  that  they  were,  in  most  cases,  the  most  efficacious 
means  of  aggravating  the  disease  they  professed  to  cure.  But  in 
social  maladies  we  are  still  in  the  age  of  the  blood-letter  and  the 
strait  waistcoat.  The  Gaol  is  our  specific  for  Despair.  When  all 
else  fails  Society  will  always  undertake  to  feed,  clothe,  warm,  and 
house  a  man,  if  only  he  will  commit  a  crime.  It  will  do  it  also  in 
such  a  fashion  as  to  render  it  no  temporary  help,  but  a  permanent 
necessity. 

Society  says  to  the  individual :  "  To  qualify  for  free  board  and 
lodging  you  must  commit  a  crime.  But  if  you  do  you  must  pay  the 
price.  You  must  allow  me  to  ruin  your  character,  and  doom 
you  for  the  rest  of  your  life  to  destitution,  modified  by  the 
occasional  successes  of  criminality.  You  shall  become  the  Child 
of  the  State,  on  condition  that  we  doom  you  to  a  tem- 
poral perdition,  out  of  which  you  will  never  be  permitted  to  escape, 


EMIGRATION    AS    A    PANACEA. 


78 


and  in  which  you  will  always  be  a  charge  upon  our  resources  and  a 
constant  source  of  anxiety  and  inconvenience  to  the  authorities.  I 
will  feed  you,  certainly,  but  in  return  you  must  permit  me  to  damn 
you."  That  surely  ought  not  to  be  the  last  word. of  Civilised 
Society. 

"  Certainly  not,"  say  others.  "  Emigration  is  the  true  specific. 
The  waste  lands  of  the  world  are  crying  aloud  for  the  application  of 
surplus  labour.  Emigration  is  the  panacea."  Now  I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  emigration.  Only  a  criminal  lunatic  could  seriously  object  to 
the  transference  of  hungry  Jack  from  an  overcrowded  shanty- 
where  he  cannot  even  obtain  enough  bad  potatoes  to  dull  the 
ache  behind  his  waistcoat,  and  is  tempted  to  let  his  child 
die  for  the  sake  of  the  insurance  money — to  a  Innd  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey,  where  he  can  eat  meat  three  times 
a  day  and  where  a  man's  children  arc  his  wealth.  But  you 
might  as  well  lay  a  new-born  child  naked  in  the  middle  of  a  new-sown 
field  in  March,  and  expect  it  to  live  and  thrive,  as  expect  emigration 
to  produce  successful  results  on  the  lines  which  some  lay  down. 
The  child,  no  c  ubt,  has  within  it  latent  capacities  which,  when  years 
and  training  hi  e  done  their  work,  will  enable  him  to  reap  a  harvest 
from  a  fertile  soil,  and  the  new  sown  field  will  be  covered  witii 
golden  grain  in  August.  Hut  these  facts  will  not  enable  the  infant 
to  still  its  hunger  with  the  clods  of  the  earth  in  the  cold  spring  time. 
It  is  just  like  that  with  emigration.  It  is  simply  criminal  to  take  a 
multitude  of  untrained  men  and  women  and  land  tliem  penniless  and 
helpless  on  the  fringe  of  some  new  continent.  The  result  of  such 
proceedings  we  see  in  the  American  cities;  in  the  degradation  of  their 
slums,  and  in  the  hopeless  demoralisation  of  thousands  who,  in  theii 
own  countr}',  were  living  decent,  industrious  lives. 

A  few  months  since,  in  Paramatta,  in  New  South  Wales,  a  young 
man  who  had  emigrated  with  a  vague  hope  of  mending  his  fortunes, 
found  himself  homeless,  friendless,  and  penniless.  I  if  was  a  clerk. 
They  wanted  no  r^iore  clerks  in  Param;  tta.  Trade  was  dull,  employ- 
ment was  scarce,  even  for  trained  hands.  He  went  about  from  day 
to  day  seeking  work  and  finding  none.  At  last  he  came  to  the  end 
of  all  his  resources.  He  went  all  day  without  food  ;  at  night  he 
slept  as  best  he  could.  Morning  came,  and  he  was  hopeless. 
All  next  day  passed  without  a  meal.  Night  came.  He  could  not 
sleep.  He  wandered  about  restlessly.  At  last,  about  midnight,  an 
idea  seized  him.     Grasping  a  brick,  he  deliberately  walked  up  to  a 


•I     i 


I    ||:'I 


i' 


76 


IS  THERE   NO   HELP? 


i;.f 


jeweller's  window,  and  smashed  a  hole  through  the  glass.  He 
made  no  attempt  to  steal  anything.  He  merely  smashed  the 
pane  and  then  sat  down  on  the  pavement  beneath  the  window, 
waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the  policeman.  !Ie  waited  some  hours; 
but  at  last  the  constable  arrived.  1  le  gave  himself  up,  and  was 
marched  off  to  the  lock-up.  "  I  shall  at  least  have  something  to  eat 
now,"  was  the  reflection.  He  was  right.  He  was  sentenced  to 
one  year's  imprisoinnent,  and  he  is  in  gaol  at  this  hour.  This  very 
morning  he  received  hi.s  rations,  and  at  this  very  moment  he  is 
'  )dged,  and  clothed  and  cared  for  at  the  cost  of  the  rates  and  ta.xcs. 
1  le  has  become  the  cliild  of  the  State,  and,  therefore,  one  of  the 
socially  damned.  Thus  emigration  itself,  instead  of  being  an 
invariable  specific,  sometimes  brings  us  back  again  to  the  gaol  cit)or. 

Emigration,  by  all  means.  Hut  whom  arc  you  to  emigrate  ? 
These  girls  who  do  not  know  how  to  bake  ?  These  lads  who  never 
handled  a  spade?  And  where  are  you  to  emigrate  them?  Arc 
you  going  to  make  the  Colonies  the  dumping  ground  of  your  human 
refuse  ?  On  that  the  colonists  will  have  something  decisive  to  say, 
where  there  are  colonists  ;  and  where  there  are  not,  how  are  you 
to  feed,  clothe,  and  employ  your  emigrants  in  the  uninhabited 
wilderness  ?  Immigration,  no  doubt,  is  the  making  of  a  colony, 
just  as  bread  is  the  staff  of  life.  But  if  you  were  to  cram  a  stomach 
with  wheat  by  a  force-pump  you  would  bring  on  such  a  fit  of 
indigestion  that  unless  your  victim  threw  up  the  indigestible  mass 
of  unground,  uncooked,  unmasticated  grain  he  would  never  want 
another  meal.  So  it  is  with  the  new  colonies  and  the  surplus  labour 
of  other  countries. 

Emigration  is  in  itself  not  a  panacea.  Is  Education  ?  In  one 
sense  it  may  be,  for  Education,  the  developing  in  a  man  of  all  his 
latent  capacities  for  improvement,  may  cure  anything  and  everything. 
But  the  Education  of  which  men  speak  when  they  use  the  term,  is 
mere  schooling.  No  one  but  a  fool  would  say  a  word  against  school 
teaching.  By  all  means  let  us  have  our  children  educated.  liut 
when  we  have  passed  them  through  the  Board  School  Mill  we  have 
enough  experience  to  see  that  they  do  not  emerge  the  renovated 
and  regenerated  beings  whose  advent  was  expected  by  those  who 
passed  the  Education  Act.  The  "  scuttlers  "  who  knife  inoffensive 
persons  in  Lancashire,  the  fighting  gangs  of  the  West  of  London, 
belong  to  the  generation  that  has  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  Compulsor\' 
Education.       Education,     book-learning    and    schooling    will     not 


.M 


THE    LIMITATIONS    OF    TRADES    UNIONISM. 


77 


solve  the  difficulty.  It  helps,  no  debt.  But  in  some  ways  it 
nj^^ravatea  it.  The  conuuon  school  to  vvhirli  the  children  of 
thieves  and  harlots  and  drunkards  are  driven,  to  sit  side  by  side 
vvith  our  little  ones,  is  often  by  no  means  a  temple  of  all  the  virtues. 
It  is  sometimes  a  university  of  all  the  vices.  The  bad  infect  the 
good,  and  your  boy  and  girl  come  back  recking  with  the  contamina- 
tion of  bad  associates,  and  familiar  with  the  coarsest  obscenity  of 
the  slum.  Another  great  evil  is  the  extent  to  which  our  Kducation 
tends  to  overstock  the  labour  market  with  material  for  quill-drivers 
and  shopnien,  and  gives  our  youth  a  distaste  for  sturdy  labour. 
Many  of  the  most  hopeless  cases  in  our  Shelters  are  men  of  con- 
siderable education.  Our  schools  help  to  enable  a  starving  man  to 
tell  his  story  in  more  grammatical  language  than  that  which  his 
father  could  have  employed,  but  they  do  not  feed  him,  or  teach  him 
where  to  go  to  get  fed.  So  iar  from  doing  this  they  increase  the  ten- 
dency to  drift  into  those  channels  where  food  is  least  secure,  because 
employment  is  most  uncertain,  and  the  market  most  overstocked. 

"  Try  Trades  Unionism,"  say  some,  and  their  advice  is  being 
widely  followed.  There  are  man}'  and  great  advantages  in  Trades 
Unionism.  The  fable  of  the  bundle  of  sticks  is  good  for  all  time. 
The  more  the  working  people  can  be  banded  together  in  voluntary 
organisations,  created  and  administered  by  themselves  for  the 
protection  of  their  own  interests,  the  better — at  any  rate  for  this 
world — and  not  only  for  their  own  interests,  but  lor  those  of  every 
other  section  of  the  community.  But  can  we  rely  upon  this  agency 
as  a  means  of  solving  the  problems  which  confront  us?  Trades 
Unionism  has  had  the  field  to  itself  for  a  generation.  It  is  twenty 
years  since  it  was  set  free  from  all  the  legal  disabilities  under  which 
it  laboured.  But  it  has  not  covered  the  land.  It  has  not  organised  all 
skilled  labour.  Unskilled  labour  is  almost  untouched.  At  the 
Congress  at  Liverpool  only  one  and  a  half  million  workmen  were 
represented.  Women  are  almost  entirely  outside  the  pale.  Trade 
Unions  not  only  represent  a  fraction  of  the  labouring  classes,  but 
they  are,  by  their  constitution,  unable  to  deal  with  those  who  do 
not  belong  to  their  body.  What  ground  can  there  be,  then,  for 
hoping  that  Trades  Unionism  will  by  itself  solve  the  difficulty? 
The  most  experienced  Trades  Unionists  will  be  the  first  to  admit  that 
any  scheme  which  could  deal  adequately  with  the  out-of-works  and 
others  who  hang  on  to  their  skirts  and  form  the  recruiting  ground 
of  blacklegs  and  embarrass  them  in  every  way,  would  be,  of  all 


II 


if-  M\ 


I 


Jx        'II 


if 


78 


IS   THERE    NO    HELP? 


othcka  that  which  would  be  most  beneficial  to  Trades  Unionism. 
The  same  may  be  said  about  Co-operation.  Personally,  I  aii. 
a  strong  believer  in  Co-operation,  but  it  must  be  Co-operation  based 
on  the  spirit  of  benevolence.  I  don't  see  how  any  pacific  re-adjust- 
ment of  the  social  and  economic  relations  between  classes  in  this 
country  can  be  effected  except  by  the  gradual  substitution  of  co- 
operative associations  for  the  present  wages  system.  As  you 
will  see  in  subsequent  chapters,  so  far  from  there  being  anything  in 
my  proposals  that  would  militate  in  any  way  against  the  ultimate 
adoption  of  the  co-operative  solution  of  the  question,  I  look  to 
Co-operation  as  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  hope  in  the  future.  But 
we  have  not  to  deal  with  the  ultimate  future,  but  with  the  immediate 
present,  and  for  the  evils  with  which  we  are  dealing  the  existing  co- 
operative organisations  do  not  and  cannot  give  us  much  help. 

Another — I  do  not  like  to  call  it  specific  ;  it  is  only  a  name,  a  mere 
mockery  of  a  specific — so  let  me  call  it  another  suggestion  made 
when  discussing  this  evil,  is  Thrift.  Thrift  is  a  great  virtue  no 
doubt.  But  how  is  Thrift  to  benefit  those  who  have  nothing? 
What  is  the  use  of  the  gospel  of  Thrift  to  a  man  who  had  nothing 
to  eat  yesterday,  and  has  not  threepence  to-day  to  pay  for  his  lodging 
to-night  ?  To  live  on  nothing  a  day  is  difficult  enough,  but  to  save 
on  it  would  beat  the  cleverest  political  economist  that  ever  lived.  I 
admit  without  hesitation  that  any  Scheme  which  weakened  the 
incentive  to  Thrift  would  do  harm.  But  it  is  a  mistake  to  imagine 
that  social  damnation  is  an  incentive  to  Thrift.  It  operates  least 
where  its  force  ought  to  be  most  felt.  There  is  no  fear  that  any 
Scheme  that  we  can  devise  will  appreciably  diminish  the  deterrent 
influences  which  dispose  a  man  to  save.  But  it  is  idle  wasting  time 
upon  a  plea  that  is  only  brought  forward  as  an  excuse  for  inaction. 
Thrift  is  a  great  virtue,  the  inculcation  of  which  must  be 
constantly  kept  in  view  by  all  those  who  are  attempting  to 
educate  and  save  the  people.  It  is  not  in  any  sense  a  specific  for  the 
salvation  of  the  lapsed  and  the  lost.  Even  among  the  most  wretched 
of  the  very  poor,  a  man  must  have  an  object  and  a  hope  before  he 
will  save  a  halfpenny.  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
perish,"  sums  up  the  philosophy  of  those  who  have  no  hope.  In  the 
thriftiness  of  the  French  peasant  we  see  that  the  temptation 
of  eating  and  drinking  is  capable  of  being  resolutely  subordinated  to 
che  superior  claims  of  the  accumulation  of  a  dowry  for  the  daughter, 
or  for  the  acquisition  of  a  little  more  land  for  the  son. 


SOCIALIST    UTOPIANISM. 


79 


Of  the  schemes  of  those  who  propose  to  bring  in  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth  by  a  more  scientific  distribution  of  the  pieces  of  gold 
and  silver  in  the  trouser  pockets  of  mankind,  I  need  not  say  anything 
here.  They  may  be  good  or  they  may  not.  I  say  nothing  against  any 
short  cut  to  the  Millennium  that  is  compatible  with  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. I  intensely  sympathise  with  the  aspirations  that  lie 
behind  all  these  Socialist  dreams.  But  whether  it  is  Henry 
George's  Single  Tax  on  Land  Values,  or  Edward  Bellamy's  National- 
ism, or  the  more  elaborate  schemes  of  the  Collectivists,  my  attitude 
towards  them  all  is  the  same.  What  these  good  people  want 
to  do,  I  also  want  to  do.  But  I  am  a  practical  man,  deal- 
ing with  the  actualities  of  to-day.  I  have  no  preconceived 
theories,  and  1  flatter  myseli  I  am  singularly  free  from  prejudices. 
I  am  ready  to  sit  at  the  feet  of  any  who  will  show  me  any  good.  I 
keep  my  mind  open  on  all  these  subjects  ;  and  am  quite  prepared  to 
hail  with  open  arms  any  Utopia  that  is  offered  me.  But  it  must  be 
within  range  of  my  finger-tips.  It  is  of  no  use  to  me  if  it  is  in  the 
clouds.  Cheques  on  the  Bank  of  Futurity  I  accept  gladly  enough 
as  a  free  gift,  but  I  can  hardly  be  expected  to  take  them  as  if  they 
were  current  coin,  or  to  try  to  cash  them  at  the  Bank  of  England. 

It  may  be  that  nothing  will  be  put  permanently  right  until  every- 
thing has  been  turned  upside  down.  There  are  certainly  so 
many  things  that  need  transforming,  beginning  with  the  heart  of 
each  individual  man  and  woman,  that  I  do  not  quarrel  with  any 
Visionary  when  in  his  intense  longing  fc;  the  amelioration  of  the 
condition  of  mankind  he  lays  down  his  theories  as  to  the  necessity 
for  radical  change,  however  impracticable  they  may  appear  to  me. 
But  this  is  the  question.  Here  at  our  Shelters  last  night 
were  a  thousand  hungry,  workless  people.  I  want  to  know 
what  to  do  with  them?  Here  is  John  Jones,  a  stout  stalwart 
labourer  in  rags,  who  has  not  had  one  square  meal  for  a  month,  who 
has  been  hunting  for  work  that  will  enable  him  to  keep  body  and 
soul  together,  and  hunting  in  vain.  There  he  is  in  his  hungry 
raggedness,  asking  for  work  that  he  may  live,  and  n  die  of  sheer 
starvation  in  the  midst  of  the  wealthiest  city  in  the  world.  What  is 
to  be  done  with  John  Jones  ? 

The  individualist  tells  me  that  the  free  play  of  the  Natural  Laws 
governing  the  struggle  for  existence  will  result  in  the  Survival  oi  the 
Fittest,  and  that  in  the  course  of  a  few  ages,  more  or  less,  a  much 
nobler  type  will  be  evolved.    But  meanwhile  what  is  to  become  of  John 


':l^  ^  ^^ 


'I  •• 


rfi 


:  '.I  'I 


f 


'f 


80 


18  THERE   NO  HELP? 


If 


If 


Jones  ?  The  Socialist  tells  me  that  the  great  Social  Revolution  is 
looming  large  on  the  horizon.  In  the  good  time  coming,  when  wealth 
will  be  re-distributed  and  private  property  abolished,  all  stomaciis 
will  be  filled  and  there  will  be  no  more  John  Jones'  impatiently 
clamouring  for  opportunity  to  work  that  they  may  not  die.  It  may 
be  so,  but  in  the  meantime  here  is  John  Jones  growing  more  im- 
patient than  ever  because  hungrier,  who  wonders  if  he  is  to  wait  for 
a  dinner  until  the  Social  Revolution  has  arrived.  What  are  we  to  do 
with  John  Jones  ?  That  is  the  question.  And  to  the  solution  of  that 
question  none  of  the  Utopians  give  me  much  help.  For  practical  pur- 
poses these  dreamers  fall  under  the  condemnation  they  lavish  so  freely 
upon  the  conventional  religious  people  who  relieve  themselves  of  all 
anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  the  poor  by  saying  that  in  the  next  world 
all  will  be  put  right.  This  religious  cant,  which  rids  itself  of  all  the 
importunity  of  suffering  humanity  by  drawing  unnegotiable  bills  pay- 
able on  the  other  side  of  the  grave,  is  not  more  impracticable  than 
the  Socialistic  clap-trap  which  postpones  all  redress  of  human  suffer- 
ing until  after  the  general  overturn.  Both  take  refuge  in  the  Future 
to  escape  a  solution  of  the  problems  of  the  Present,  and  it  matters 
little  to  the  sufferers  whether  the  Future  is  on  this  side  of  the  grave 
or  the  other.     Both  are,  for  them,  equally  out  of  reach. 

When  the  sky  falls  we  shall  catch  larks.  No  doubt.  But  in  the 
meantime  ? 

It  is  the  meantime — that  is  the  only  time  in  which  we  have  to  work. 
It  is  in  the  meantime  that  the  people  must  be  fed,  that  their  life's  work 
must  be  done  or  left  undone  for  ever.  Nothing  that  I  have  to 
propose  in  this  book,  or  that  I  propose  to  do  by  my  Scheme,  will  in 
the  least  prevent  the  coming  of  any  of  the  Utopias.  I  leave  the 
limitless  infinite  of  the  Future  to  the  Utopians.  They  may  build 
there  as  they  please.  As  for  me,  it  is  indispensable  that  whatever  I 
do  is  founded  on  existing  fact,  and  provides  a  present  help  for  the 
actual  need. 

There  is  only  one  class  of  men  who  have  cause  to  oppose  the 
proposals  which  I  am  about  to  set  forth.  That  is  those,  if  such 
there  be,  who  are  determined  to  bring  about  by  any  and  every  means 
a  bloody  and  violent  overturn  of  all  existing  institutions.  They  will 
oppose  the  Scheme,  and  they  will  act  logically  in  so  doing.  For  the  only 
hope  of  those  who  are  the  artificers  of  Revolution  is  the  mass  of  seething 
discontent  and  misery  that  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  social  system. 
Honestly   believing   that   things  must  get  worse  before  they  get 


THE    SOLDIERS    OF  DESPAIR. 


81 


better,  they  build  all  their  hopes  upon  the  general  overturn,  and 
they  resent  as  an  indefinite  postponement  of  the  realisation  of  their 
dreams  any  attempt  at  a  reduction  of  human  misery. 

The  Army  of  the  Revolution  is  recruited  by  the  Soldiers  of  Despair. 
Therefore,  down  with  any  Scheme  which  gives  men  Hope.  In  so  far  as 
it  succeeds  it  curtails  our  recruiting  ground  and  reinforces  the  ranks 
of  our  Enemies.  Such  opposition  is  to  be  counted  upon,  and  to  be 
utilised  as  the  best  of  all  tributes  to  the  value  of  our  work.  Those 
who  thus  count  upon  violence  and  bloodshed  are  too  few  to  hinder, 
and  their  opposition  will  merely  add  to  the  momentum  with  which  I 
hope  and  believe  this  Scheme  will  ultimately  be  enabled  to  surmount 
all  dissent,  and  achieve,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  that  measure  of 
success  with  which  I  verily  believe  it  to  be  charged. 


'!'■    < 


ill   i 


•  ri 


,,  ■  I 


1  I  pi 


i 


M:  i 


11 

1 


i      ^ 


PART     II.  — DELIVERANCE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


>(  ' 


A  STUPENDOUS  UNDERTAKING. 

Such,  then,  is  a  brief  and  hurried  survey  of  Darkest  England,  and 
those  who  have  been  in  the  depths  of  the  enchanted  forest  in  which 
wander  the  tribes  of  the  despairing  Lost  will  be  the  first  to  admit 
that  I  have  in  no  way  exaggerated  its  horrors,  while  most  will 
assert  that  I  have  under-estimated  the  number  of  its  denizens.  I 
have,  indeed,  very  scrupulously  striven  to  keep  my  estimates  of  the 
extent  of  the  evil  within  the  lines  of  sobriety.  Nothing  in  such  an 
enterprise  as  that  on  which  I  am  entering  could  worse  befall  me 
than  to  come  under  the  reproach  of  sensationalism  or  exaggeration. 
Most  of  the  evidence  upon  which  I  have  relied  is  taken  direct  from 
the  official  statistics  supplied  by  the  Government  Returns; 
and  as  to  the  rest,  I  can  only  say  that  if  my  figures 
are  compared  with  those  of  any  other  writer  upon  this  subject, 
it  will  be  found  that  my  estimates  are  the  lowest.  I  am  not 
prepared  to  defend  the  exact  accuracy  of  my  calculations,  excepting 
so  far  as  they  constitute  the  minimum.  To  those  who  believe  that 
the  numbers  of  the  wretched  are  far  in  excess  of  my  figures,  I  have 
nothing  to  say,  excepting  this,  that  if  the  evil  is  so  much  greater  than 
I  have  described,  then  let  your  efforts  be  proportioned  to  your 
estimate,  not  to  mine.  The  great  point  with  each  of  us  is,  not  how 
many  of  the  wretched  exist  to-day,  but  how  few  shall  there  exist  in 
the  years  that  are  to  come. 

The  dark  and  dismal  jungle  of  pauperism,  vice,  and  despair  is  the 
inheritance  to  which  we  have  succeeded  from  the  generations  and 
centuries  past,    during  which    wars,    insurrections,   and    internal 


*;;,!  i! 


M^ 


iii 


84 


A   STUPENDOUS    UNDERTAKING. 


'  ''ii 


troubles  left  our  forefathers  small  leisure  to  attend  to  the  well-being 
of  the  sunken  tenth.  Now  that  we  have  happened  upon  more 
fortunate  times,  let  us  recognise  that  we  are  our  brother's  keepers, 
and  set  to  work,  regardless  of  party  distinctions  and  religious 
differences,  to  make  this  world  of  ours  a  little  bit  more  like  home  for 
those  whom  we  call  our  brethren. 

The  problem,  it  must  be  admitted,  is  by  no  means  a  simple  one ; 
nor  can  anyone  accuse  me  in  the  foregoing  pages  of  having  mini- 
mised the  difficulties  which  heredity,  habit,  and  surroundings  place  in 
the  way  of  its  solution,  but  unless  we  are  prepared  to  fold  our  arms 
in  selfish  ease  and  say  that  nothing  can  be  done,  and  thereby  doom 
those  lost  millions  to  remediless  perdition  in  this  world,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  next,  the  problem  must  be  solved  in  some  way.  But 
in  what  way  ?  That  is  the  question.  It  may  tend,  perhaps,  to 
the  crystallisation  of  opinion  on  this  subject  if  T  lay  down,  with 
such  precision  as  I  can  command,  what  must  be  the  essential 
elements  of  any  scheme  likely  to  command  success. 


Section  i.— THE  ESSENTIALS  TO  SUCCESS. 


The  first  essential  that  must  be  borne  in  mind  as  governing  every 
Scheme  that  may  be  put  forward  is  that  it  must  change  the  man  when 
it  is  his  character  and  conduct  wnicn  constitute  the  reasons  for  his  faihtre 
in  the  battle  of  life.  No  change  in  circumstances,  no  revolution  in 
social  conditions,  can  possibly  transform  the  nature  of  man.  Some 
of  the  worst  men  and  women  in  the  world,  whose  names  are 
chronicled  by  history  with  a  shudder  of  horror,  were  those  who  had 
all  the  advantages  that  wealth,  education  and  station  could  confer  or 
ambition  could  attain. 

The  sui^reme  test  of  any  scheme  for  benefiting  humanity  lies  in  the 
answer  to  the  question.  What  does  it  make  of  the  individual  ?  Does 
it  quicken  his  conscience,  does  it  soften  his  heart,  does  it  enlighten 
his  mind,  does  it,  in  short,  make  more  of  a  true  man  of  him,  because  only 
by  such  influences  can  he  be  enabled  to  lead  a  human  life?  Among  the 
denizens  of  Darkest  England  there  are  many  who  have  found  their  way 
thither  by  defects  of  character  which  would  under  the  most  favourable 
circumstances  relegate  them  to  the  same  position.  Hence,  unless  you 
can  change  their  character  your  labour  will  be  lost.  You  may  clothe 
the  drunkard,  fill  his  purse  with  gold,  establish  him  in  a  well-furnished 
home,  and  in  tliree,  or  six,  or  twelve  months  he  will  once  more  be  on 
the  Embankment,  haunted  by  delirium  tremens,  dirty,  squalid,  and 
ragged.  Hence,  in  all  cases  where  a  man's  own  character  and 
defects  constitute  the  reasons  for  his  fall,  that  character  must  be 
changed  and  that  conduct  altered  if  any  permanent  beneficial  results 
are  to  be  attained.  If  he  is  a  drunkard,  he  must  be  made  sober ; 
if  idle,  he  must  be  made  industrious  ;  if  criminal,  he  must  be  made 
honest ;  if  impure,  he  must  be  made  clean  ;  and  if  he  be  so  deep 
down  in  vice,  and  has  been  there  so  long  that  he  has  lost  all  heart, 
find  hope,  and  power  to  help  himself,  and  absolutely  refuses  to  move, 
he  must  be  inspired  with  hope  and  have  created  within  him  the 
ambition  tQ  rise ;  otherwise  he  will  never  get  out  of  the  horrible  pit, 


k 


86 


THE    ESSENTIALS    TO    SUCCESS. 


II' 

m 


Secondly  :  T/ie  remedy,  to  be  effectual,  must  change  the  circumstances 
of  the  individual  when  they  are  Hie  cause  of  his  wretched  condition,  and 
lie  beyond  his  control.  Among  those  who  have  arrived  at  their 
present  evil  plight  through  faults  of  self-indulgence  or  some  defect  in 
their  moral  character,  how  many  are  there  who  would  have  been  very 
differently  placed  to-day  had  their  surroundings  been  otherwise  ? 
Charles  Kingsley  puts  this  very  abruptly  where  he  makes  the 
Poacher's  widow  say,  when  addressing  the  Bad  Squire,  who  drew  back 

"  Our  daughters,  with  base-born  babies, 
Have  wandered  away  in  their  shame. 
If  your  misses  had  slept,  Squire,  where  they  did, 
Your  misses  might  do  the  same.' 

Placed  in  the  same  or  similar  circumstances,  how  many  of  us  would 
have  turned  out  better  than  this  poor,  lapsed,  sunken  multitude  ? 

Many  of  this  crowd  have  never  had  a  chance  of  doing  better ;  they 
have  been  born  in  a  poisi  ned  atmosphere,  educated  in  circumstances 
which  have  rendered  modesty  an  impossibility,  and  have  been 
thrown  into  life  in  conditions  which  make  vice  a  second  nature. 
Hence,  to  provide  an  effective  remedy  for  the  evils  which  we 
are  deploring  these  circumstances  must  be  altered,  and  unless 
my  Scheme  effects  such  a  change,  it  will  be  of  no  use. 
There  are  multitudes,  myriads,  of  men  and  women,  who 
are  floundering  in  the  horrible  quagmire  beneath  the  burden 
of  a  load  too  heavy  for  them  to  bear ;  every  plunge  they 
take  forward  lands  them  deeper ;  some  have  ceased  even  to 
struggle,  and  lie  prone  in  the  filthy  bog,  slOwly  suffocating, 
with  their  manhood  and  womanhood  all  but  perished.  It  is 
no  use  standing  on  the  firm  bank  of  the  quaking  morass  and 
anathematising  these  poor  wretches  ;  if  you  are  to  do  them  any  good, 
you  must  give  them  another  chance  \o  get  on  theii-  feet,  you  must 
give  them  firm  foothold  upon  whicli  the}-  can  once  more  stand  upright, 
and  you  must  build  stepping-stones  across  the  bog  to  enable  them 
safely  to  reach  the  other  side.  Favourable  circumstances  will  not 
change  a  man's  heart  or  transform  his  nature,  but  unpropitious 
circumstances  may  render  it  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  escape, 
no  matter  how  he  may  desire  to  extricate  himself.  The  first  step  with 
these  helpless,  sunken  creatures  is  to  create  the  desire  to  escape,  and 
then  provide  the  means  for  doing  so.  In  other  words,  give  the  man 
another  chance. 


WHAT  THE  SCHEME  MUST  BE  AND  MUST  NOT  BE.   87 

Thirdly :  Any  remedy  worthy  of  consideration  must  be  on  a 
scaie  commensurate  with  the  evil  with  which  it  proposes  to  deal.  It 
is  no  use  trying  to  bail  out  the  ocean  with  a  pint  pot.  This  evil  is 
one  whose  victims  are  counted  by  the  million.  The  army  of  the  Lost 
in  our  midst  exceeds  the  numbers  of  that  multitudinous  host  which 
Xerxes  led  from  Asia  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Greece.  Pass  in 
parade  those  who  make  up  the  sifbmerged  tenth,  count  the 
paupers  indoor  and  outdoor,  the  homeless,  the  starving,  the 
criminals,  the  lunatics,  the  drunkards,  and  the  harlots — and  yet 
do  not  give  way  to  despair  !  Even  to  attempt  to  save  a  tithe  of 
this  host  requires  that  we  should  put  much  more  force  and  fire  into 
our  work  than  has  hitherto  been  exhibited  by  anyone.  There  must 
be  no  more  philanthropic  tinkering,  as  if  this  vast  sea  of  human 
misery  were  contained  in  the  limits  of  a  garden  pond. 

Fourthly :  Not  only  must  the  Scheme  be  large  enough,  but  it  must 
be  permanent.  That  is  to  s£.y,  it  must  not  be  merely  a  spasmodic 
efTort  coping  with  the  miser}'  of  to-day  ;  it  must  be  established 
on  a  'Jurable  footing,  so  as  to  go  on  dealing  with  the  misery  of  to- 
morrcvand  the  day  after,  so  long  as  there  is  misery  left  in  the  world 
with  which  to  grapple. 

Fifthly  :  But  while  it  must  be  permanent,  it  must  also  be  immediately 
practicable.  Any  Scheme,  to  be  of  use,  must  be  capable  of  being 
brought  into  instant  operation  with  beneficial  results. 

Sixthly :  The  indirect  features  of  the  Scheme  must  not  be  such  as 
tc  produce  injury  to  the  persons  tvhom  we  seek  to  benefit.  Mere 
charity,  for  instance,  while  relieving  the  pinch  of  hunger,  de- 
moralises the  recipient;  and  whatever  the  n  nedy  is  that  we  employ, 
it  must  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  do  good  wiiiiout  doing  evil  at  the 
same  time.  It  is  no  use  conferring  sixpeiinyworth  of  benefit  on  a 
man  if,  at  the  same  time,  we  do  him  a  shilling'swortli  of  harm. 

Seventhly  :  While  assisting  one  clasr,  of  the  covtniunily,  it  must  not 
seriously  interfere  with  the  interests  of  another.  In  raising  one  section 
of  the  fallen,  we  must  not  thereby  endanger  tlie  safety  of  those  who 
with  difficulty  are  keeping  on  their  feet. 

These  are  the  conditions  by  which  I  ask  you  to  test  the  Scheme  I 
am  about  to  unfold.  They  are  formidable  enough,  possibly,  to  deter 
many  from  even  attempting  to  do  anything.  They  are  not  of  my 
making.  They  are  obvious  to  anyone  who  looks  into  the  matter. 
They  are   the  laws  which   govern  the  work  of  the  philanthropic 


!       !■    ll 


I?-' . 


It 


i! 


88 


THE   E88ENTIAL8  TO   8UCCE88. 


SI 


i! 


reformer,  just  as  the  laws  of  gravitation,  of  wind  and  of  wcither, 
govern  the  operations  of  the  engineer.  It  is  no  use  saying  we  could 
build  a  bridge  across  the  Tay  if  the  wind  did  not  blow,  or  that  we 
could  build  a  railway  across  a  bog  if  the  quagmire  would  afford  us  a 
solid  foundation.  The  engineer  has  to  take  into  account  the  difficulties, 
and  make  them  his  starting  point.  The  wind  will  blow,  therefore 
the  bridge  must  be  made  strong  enough  to  resist  it.  Chat  Moss  will 
shake  ;  therefore  we  must  construct  a  foundation  in  the  very  bowels 
of  the  bog  on  which  to  ouilti  our  railway.  So  it  is  with  the  social 
difficulties  which  confront  us.  If  we  act  in  harmony  with  these  laws 
we  shall  triumph  ;  but  if  we  ignore  them  they  will  overwhelm  us 
with  destruction  and  cover  us  with  disgrace. 

But,  difficult  as  the  task  may  be,  it  is  not  one  which  we  can 
neglect.  When  Napoleon  was  compelled  to  retreat  under  circum- 
stances which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  carry  off  his  sick 
and  wounded,  he  ordered  his  doctors  to  poison  every  man  in  the 
hospital.  A  general  has  before  now  massacred  his  prisoners  rather 
than  allow  them  to  escape.  These  Lost  ones  are  the  Prisoners  of 
Society ;  they  are  the  Sick  and  Wounded  in  our  Hospitals.  What  a 
shriek  would  arise  from  the  civilised  world  if  it  were  proposed  to 
administer  to-night  to  every  one  of  these  millions  such  a  dose  of 
morphine  that  they  would  sleep  to  wake  no  more.  But  so  far 
as  they  are  concerned,  woulia*"  it  not  be  much  less  cruel  thus 
to  end  their  life  than  to  allow  them  to  drag  on  day  after  day, 
year  after  year,  in  misery,  anguish,  and  despair,  driven  into  vice 
and  hunted  into  crime,  until  at  last  disease  harries  them  into  the 
grave  ? 

I  am  under  no  delusion  as  to  the  possibility  of  inaugurating  a 
millennium  by  my  Sclieme ;  but  the  triumphs  of  science  deal  so  much 
with  the  utilisation  of  waste  material,  that  I  do  not  despair  of  some- 
thing effectual  being  accomplished  in  the  utilisation  of  this  waste 
human  product.  The  refuse  which  was  a  drug  and  a  curse  to  our 
manufacturers,  when  treated  under  the  hands  of  the  cl  emi.st,  has  been 
the  means  of  supplying  us  with  dyes  rivalling  in  loveliness  and 
variety  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  If  the  alchemy  of  science  can 
extract  beautiful  colours  from  coal  tar,  cannot  Divine  alchemy 
enable  us  to  evolve  gladness  and  brightness  out  of  the  agonised 
hearts  and  dark,  dreary,  loveless  lives  of  these  doomed  myriads  .■' 
Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  in  God's  world  God's  children  may  be 
able  to  do  something,  if  they  set  to  work  with  a  will,  to  carry  out  a 


THE    KEY    TO    THE    ENIGMA. 


89 


plan  of  campaign  against  these  great  evils  which  are  the  nightmare 
of  our  existence  ? 

The  remedy,  it  may  be,  is  simpler  than  some  imagine.  The  key 
to  the  enigma  may  lie  closer  to  our  hands  than  we  have  any  idea  of. 
Many  devices  have  been  tried,  and  many  have  failed,  no  doubt ;  it  is 
only  stubborn,  reckless  perseverance  that  can  hope  to  succeed  ;  it  is 
well  that  we  recognise  this.  How  many  ages  did  men  try  to  make 
gunpowder  and  never  succeeded  ?  They  would  put  saltpetre  to 
charcoal,  or  charcoal  to  sulphur,  or  saltpetre  to  sulphur,  and  so 
were  ever  unable  to  make  the  compound  explode.  But  it  has  only  been 
discovered  within  the  last  few  hundred  years  that  all  three  were 
needed.  Before  that  gunpowder  was  a  mere  imagination,  a  phantasy 
of  the  alchemists.  How  easy  it  is  to  make  gunpowder,  now  the 
secret  of  its  manufacture  is  known  1 

But  take  a  simpler  illustration,  one  which  lies  even  within  the 
memory  of  some  that  read  these  pages.  From  the  beginning  of  the 
world  down  to  the  beginning  of  this  century,  mankind  had  not  found 
out,  with  all  its  striving  after  cheap  and  easy  transport,  the  miraculous 
difference  that  would  be  brought  about  by  laying  down  two  parallel 
lines  of  metal.  AM  the  great  men  and  the  wise  men  of  the  past 
lived  and  died  oblivious  of  that  fact.  The  greatest  mechanicians 
and  engineers  of  antiquity,  the  men  who  bridged  all  the  rivers  of 
Europe,  the  architects  who  built  the  cathedrals  which  are  still  the 
wonder  of  the  world,  failed  to  discern  what  seems  to  us  so  obviously 
simple  a  proposition,  that  two  parallel  hnes  of  rail  would  diminish 
the  cost  am  difficulty  of  transport  to  a  minimum.  Without  that 
discovery  the  steam  engine,  which  has  itself  been  an  invention  of 
quite  recent  years,  would  have  failed  to  transform  civilisation. 

What  we  have  to  do  in  the  philanthropic  sphere  is  to  find  some- 
thing analogous  to  the  engineers'  parallel  bars.  This  discovery  I 
think  I  have  made,  and  hence  have  I  written  this  book. 


r    I' 


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•  I 


Section  2.— MY  SCHEME. 

What,  then,  is  my  Scheme  ?  It  is  a  very  simple  one,  although  in 
its  ramifications  and  extensions  it  embraces  the  whole  world.  In 
this  book  I  profess  to  do  no  more  than  to  merely  outline,  as  plainly 
and  as  simply  as  I  can,  the  fundamental  features  of  my  proposals. 
I  propose  to  devote  the  bulk  of  this  volume  to  setting  forth  what  can 
practically  be  done  with  one  of  the  most  pressing  parts  of  the 
problem,  namely,  that  relating  to  those  who  are  out  of  work,  and 
who,  as  ihe  result,  are  more  or  less  destitute.  I  have  many  ideas  of 
what  might  be  done  with  those  who  are  at  present  cared  for  in  some 
measure  by  the  State,  but  I  will  leave  these  ideas  for  the  present. 

It  is  not  urgent  that  I  should  explain  how  our  Poor  Law  system 
could  be  reformed,  or  what  I  should  like  to  see  done  for  the  Lunatics 
in  Asylums,  or  the  Criminals  in  Gaols.  The  persons  who  are  pro- 
vided for  by  the  State  we  will,  therefore,  for  Jic  moment,  leave 
out  of  count.  The  indoor  paupers,  the  convicts,  the  inmates  ot 
the  lunatic  asylums  are  cared  for,  in  a  fashion,  already.  But, 
over  and  above  all  these,  there  exists  some  hundreds  of  thousands 
who  are  not  quartered  on  the  State,  but  who  are  living  on  the 
verge  of  despair,  and  who  at  any  moment,  under  circumstances  of 
misfortune,  might  be  compelled  to  demand  relief  or  support  in  one 
shape  or  another.  I  will  confine  myself,  therefore,  for  the  present 
to  those  who  have  no  helper. 

It  is  possible,  I  think  probable,  if  the  proposals  which  I  am  now 
putting  forward  are  carried  out  successfully  in  relation  to  the  lost, 
homeless,  and  helpless  of  the  population,  that  many  of  those  who 
are  at  the  present  moment  in  somewhat  better  circumstances  will 
demand  that  they  also  shall  be  allowed  to  partake  in  the  benefits  of 
the  Scheme.  But  upon  this,  also,  I  remain  silent.  I  merely  remark 
that  we  have,  in  the  recognition  of  the  importance  of  discipline  and 
organisation,  what  may  be  called  regimented  co-operation,  a 
principle  that  will  be  found  valuable  for  solving  many  social  prob- 


i 


.  i . 


THE    OPEN   SECRET. 


91 


I 

t 


lems  other  than  that  of  destitution.  Of  these  plans,  which  ire  at 
present  being  brooded  over  with  a  view  to  their  reahsaiio.i  wlicn 
the  time  is  propitious  and  the  opportunity  occurs,  I  shall  have 
something  to  say.   . 

What  is  the  outward  and  visible  form  of  the  Problem  of  the 
Unemployed  ?  Alas  1  we  are  all  too  familiar  with  it  for  any  lengthy 
description  to  be  necessary,  ''he  social  problem  presents  itself 
before  us  whenever  a  hungry  dirty  and  ragged  njan  stands  at  our 
door  asking  if  we  can  give  him  a  crust  or  a  job.  Ti.at  is  the  social 
question.  What  are  you  to  do  with  that  man  ?  He  has  no  money 
in  his  pocket,  all  that  he  can  pawn  he  has  pawned  long  <igo,  his 
stomach  is  as  empty  as  his  purse,  and  the  whole  of  the  clothes  upon 
his  back,  even  if  sold  on  the  best  terms,  would  not  fetch  a  shilling. 
There  he  stands,  your  brother,  with  sixpennyworth  of  rags  to  cover 
his  nakedness  from  his  fellow  men  and  not  sixpennyworth  of 
victuals  within  his  reach.  He  asks  for  work,  which  he  will  set  to 
even  on  his  empty  stomach  and  in  his  ragged  uniform,  if  so  be  that 
you  will  give  him  something  for  it,  but  his  hands  are  idle,  for  no  one 
employs  him.  What  are  you  to  do  with  that  man  ?  That  is  the 
great  note  of  interrogation  that  confronts  Society  to-day.  Not  only 
in  overcrowded  England,  but  in  newer  countries  beyond  the 
sea,  where  Society  has  not  yet  provided  a  means  by  which 
the  men  can  be  put  upon  the  land  and  the  land  be  made 
to  feed  the  men  To  deal  with  this  man  is  the  Problem 
of  the  Unemployed.  To  deal  with  him  eftectively  you  must 
deal  with  him  immediately,  you  must  provide  him  in  some  way  or 
other  at  once  with  food,  and  shelter,  and  warmth.  Next  you  must 
find  him  something  to  do,  something  that  will  test  the  reality  of  his 
desire  to  work.  This  test  must  be  more  or  less  temporary,  and 
should  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  prepare  him  for  making  a  permanent 
livelihood.  Then,  having  trained  him,  you  must  provide  him  where- 
withal to  start  life  afresh.  All  these  things  I  propose  to  do.  My 
Scheme  divides  itself  into  three  sections,  each  of  which  is  indis- 
pensable for  the  success  of  the  whole.  In  this  three-fold  organisation 
lies  the  open  secret  of  the  solution  of  the  Social  Problem. 

The  Scheme  I  have  to  offer  consists  in  the  formation  of  these 
people  into  self-helping  and  self-sustaining  communities,  each  being 
a  kind  of  co-operative  society,  or  patriarchal  family,  governed  and 
disciplined  on  the  principles  which  have  already  proved  so  effective 
in  the  Salvation  Army. 


ilj 


I 
:  I 

:  I 
'  I 


i ' 


-    \ 


92 


MY  SCHEME. 


'11 

lit! 

:i 

■.:■«(■  I 


.;i 


It 

■J 
■f 


These  communities  we  will  call,  for  want  of  a  better  term,  Colonies. 
There  will  be — 

(i)  The  City  Colony. 

(2)  The  Farm  Colony. 

(3)  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE    CITY    COLONY. 

By  the  City  Colony  is  meant  the  establishment,  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  ocean  of  misery  01  vt^hich  we  have  been  speaking,  of  a 
number  of  Institutions  to  act  as  Harbours  of  Refuge  for  all  and  any 
who  have  been  shipwrecked  in  life,  character,  or  circumstances. 
These  Harbours  will  gather  up  the  poor  destitute  creatures,  supply 
their  immediate  pressing  necessities,  furnish  temporary  employment, 
inspire  them  wiih  hope  for  the  future,  and  commence  at  once  a  course 
of  regeneration  by  moral  and  religious  influences. 

From  these  Institutions^  which  are  hereafter  described,  numbers 
would,  after  a  short  time,  be  floated  off  to  permanent  employment,  or 
sent  home  to  friends  happy  to  receive  them  on  hearing  of  thcit 
reformation.  All  who  remain  on  our  hands  would,  by  varied  means, 
be  tested  as  to  their  sincerity,  industry,  and  honesty,  and  as  soon  as 
satisfaction  was  created,  be  passed  on  to  the  Colony  of  the  second 
class. 

THE  FARM  COLONY. 

This  would  consist  of  a  settlement  of  the  Colonists  on  an  estate  in 
the  provinces,  in  the  culture  of  which  they  would  find  employment 
and  obtain  support.  As  the  race  from  the  Country  to  the  City  has 
been_the  cause  of  much  of  the  distress  we  have  to  battle  with,  we 
propose  to  find  a  substantial  part  of  our  remedy  by  transferring  tliese 
same  people  back  to  the  country,  that  is  back  again  to  "  the  Garden  !" 

I  lere  the  process  of  reformation  of  character  would  be  carried  for- 
ward by  the  same  industrial,  moral,  and  religious  methods  as  have 
already  been  commenced  in  the  City,  especially  including  those  forms 
of  labour  and  that  knowledge  of  agriculture  which,  should  the 
Colonist  not  obtain  employment  in  this  country,  will  qualify  him  for 
pursuing  his  fortunes  under  more  favourable  circumstances  in  some 
other  land. 

From  the  Farm,  as  from  the  City,  there  can  be  no  question  that 
large  numbers,  resuscitated  in  health  and  character,  would  be  restored 
to  friends  up  and  down  the  country.  Some  would  find  employment 
in  their  own  callings,  others  would  settle  in  cottages  on  a  small  piece 


THE    THREE-FOLD    COLONY. 


93 


of  land  that  we  should  provide,  or  on  Co-operative  Farms  which  we 
intend  to  promote  ;  while  the  great  bulk,  after  trial  and  training, 
would  be  passed  on  to  the  Foreign  Settlement,  which  would  con- 
stitute our  third  class,  namely  The  Over-Sea  Colony. 

THE  OVER-SEA  COLONY. 

All  who  have  given  attention  to  the  subject  are  agreed  that  in  our 
Colonies  in  South  Africa,  Canada,  Western  Australia  and  elsewhere, 
there  are  millions  of  acres  of  useful  land  to  be  obtained  almost  for 
the  asking,  capable  of  supporting  our  su.plus  population  in  health 
and  comfort,  were  it  a  thousand  times  greater  than  it  is.  We  pro- 
pose to  secure  a  tract  of  land  in  one  of  these  countries,  prepare  it 
for  settlement,  establish  in  it  authority,  govern  it  by  equitable  laws, 
assist  it  in  times  of  necessity,  settling  it  gradually  with  a  prepared 
people,  and  so  create  a  home  for  these  destitute  multitudes. 

The  Sclieme,  in  its  entirety,  may  aptly  be  compared  to  A  Great 
Machine,  foundationed  in  the  lowest  slums  and  purlieus  of  our  great 
towns  and  cities,  drawing  up  into  its  embrace  the  depraved  and  destitute 
of  all  classes ;  receiving  thieves,  harlots,  paupers,  drunkards,  prodigals, 
all  alike,  on  the  simple  conditions  of  their  being  willing  to  work  and 
to  conform  to  discipline.  Drawing  up  these  poor  outcasts,  reforming 
them,  and  creating  in  them  habits  of  industry,  honesty,  and  truth  ; 
teaching  them  methods  by  which  alike  the  bread  that  perishes  and 
that  which  endures  to  Everlasting  Life  can  be  won.  Forwarding 
them  from  the  City  to  the  Country,  and  there  continuing  the  process 
of  regeneration,  and  th  n  pouring  them  forth  on  to  the  virgin  soils 
that  await  their  coming  in  other  lands,  keeping  hold  of  them  with  a 
■  strong  government,  and  yet  making  them  free  men  and  women  ;  and 
so  laying  the  foundations,  perchance,  of  another  Empire  to  swell  to 
vast  proportions  in  later  times.     Why  not  ? 


:|i 


!  I 


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■{   1 


CHAPTER  II. 

TO  THE  RESCUE!— THE  CITY  COLONY. 

The  first  section  of  my  Scheme  is  the  establishment  of  a  Receiving 
House  for  the  Destitute  in  every  great  centre  of  population.  We 
start,  let  us  remember,  from  the  individual,  the  ragged,  hungry, 
penniless  man  who  confronts  us  with  despairing  demands  for  food, 
shelter,  and  work.  Now,  I  have  had  some  two  or  three  years' 
experience  in  dealing  with  this  class.  I  believe,  at  the  present 
moment,  the  Salvation  Army  supplies  more  food  aid  shelter  to  the 
destitute  than  any  other  organisation  in  London,  and  it  is  the  experi- 
ence and  encouragement  which  I  have  gained  in  the  working  of 
these  Food  and  Shelter  Depots  which  has  largely  encouraged  me  to 
propound  this  scheme. 

Section  i.— FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 

As  I  rode  through  Canada  and  the  United  States  some  three  years 
ago,  I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  superabundance  of  food  which 
I  saw  at  every  turn.  Oh,  how  I  longed  that  the  poor  starving 
people,  and  the  hungry  children  of  the  East  of  London  and  of 
other  centres  of  our  destitute  populations,  should  come  into  the 
midst  of  this  abundance,  but  as  it  appeared  impossible  for  me  to 
take  them  to  it,  I  secretly  resolved  that  I  would  endeavour  to  bring 
some  of  it  to  them.  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  I  have  already  been 
able  to  do  so  on  a  small  scale,  and  hope  to  accomplish  it  ere  long  on 
a  much  vaster  one. 

With  this  view,  the  first  Cheap  Food  Dep6t  was  opened  in  the 
East  of  London  two  and  a  half  years  ago.  This  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  others,  and  we  have  now  three  establishments  :  others  are 
being  arranged  for. 

Since  the  commencement  in  1888,  we  have  supplied  over  three 
and  a  half  million  meals. 

Some  idea  can  be  formed  of  the  extent  to  which  these  Food  and 
Shelter  Depots  have  already  struck  their  roots  into  the  strata  of 


WHAT    HAS    BECN    DONE    ALREADY. 


95 


Society  which  it  is  proposed  to  benefit,  by  the  following  figures, 
which  give  the  quantities  of  food  sold  during  the  year  at  our  Food 
Depots. 


■ii 


FOOD  SOLD  IN  DEPOTS  AND  SHELTERS  DURING  1889. 


Article. 


Weight. 


Measure. 

Soup  1 16,400  gallons    ... 

Bread 192^  tons 106,964  4lb.-loave3 

Tea 2i    „     46,980  gallons    ... 

Coffee iscvvt 13.949      .1      

'"jcoa 6  tons    29,229      „      

Sugar ; 25    

Potatoes 140    „    

Flour 18    „   

Peallour     28^ , 

(Jatmeal 3A  „   

Rice    12    „   

Beans 12    „   

Onions  and  parsnips   12    „   , 

Jam o   , 

Marmalade    6   „   

Meat  15    „   

Milk   


Remarks. 


.    300  bags 

.2,800  „ 

.  I 80 sacks 
.  288  „ 
.  36  .. 
.  120  „ 
•  240  „ 
.  240  „ 
.2,880  jars 
.1,920    „ 


14,300  quarts . 


This  includes  returns  from  three  Food  Depots  and  five  Shelters.  I 
propose  to  multiply  their  number,  to  develop  their  usefulness,  and  to 
make  them  the  threshold  of  the  whole  Scheme.  Those  who  haVe  already 
visited  our  Depots  will  understand  exactly  what  this  means.  The 
majority,  however,  of  the  readers  of  these  pages  have  not  done  so, 
and  for  tliem  it  is  necessary  to  explain  what  they  are. 

At  each  of  our  Depots,  which  can  be  seen  by  anybody  that  cares  to 
take  the  trouble  to  visit  them,  there  are  two  departments,  one  dealing 
with  food,  the  r':her  with  shelter.  Of  these  both  are  worked  together 
and  minister  to  the  same  individuals.  Many  come  for  food  who  do 
not  come  for  shelter,  although  most  of  those  who  come  for  shelter 
also  jome  for  food,  which  is  sold  on  terms  to  cover,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  the  cost  price  and  working  expenses  of  the  establishment. 
In  this   our  Food   Depots  differ  from  the  ordinary  soup  kitchens. 


i    I 


I  ■ ! 


d6 


POOD  AND  SHELTER  POR  EVERY  MAN. 


1,1 

HI 

1' 


i 


There  is  no  gratuitous  distribution  of  victuals.     The  following  is  cur 
Price  List : — 


WHAT    IS    SOLD    AT    THE    FOOD    DEPOTS. 


FOR   A   CHILD. 
d. 


Soup 


Per  B.isin  \ 
With  Bread  \ 


CoflFee  or  Cocoa. 


per  cup  \ 


With  Bread  and  Jam  \ 


ooup   •••    •••     •••     •• 

ft        •••     •••     ■••     •• 

Potatoes     

Cabbage     

Haricot  Beans    

Boiled  Jam  Pudding.. 

„      Plum      „ 
Rice  „ 

Baked  Plum     „ 


FOR   ADULTS. 

d. 


Per  Rasin  \ 
With  Bread  i 
\ 


Each 


d. 
\ 
3 


Baked  Jam  Roll 

Meal  Pudding  and  Potatoes    ... 
Corned  Beef  „  ..... 

Mutton        „  2 

Coffee per  cup,  ^d. ;  per  mug  i 

Cocoa ^d.  „        I 

Tea       „        ^d.  „         I 

Bread  &  Butter,  Jam,  or  Marmalade 

per  slice  \ 


Soup  in  own  Jugs,  id.  per  Quart. 
Ready  at  lo  a.m. 

A  certain  discretionary  power  is  vested  in  the  Officers  in  charge 
of  the  Dep6t,  and  they  can  in  very  urgent  cases  give  relief,  but  the 
rule  is  for  the  food  to  be  paid  for,  and  the  financial  results  show 
that  working  expenses  are  just  about  covered. 

These  Cheap  Food  Depdts  I  have  no  doubt  have  been  and  are  oi 
great  service  to  numbers  of  hungry  starving  men,  women,  and 
children,  at  the  prices  just  named,  which  must  be  within  the 
reach  of  all,  except  the  absolutely  penniless ;  but  it  is  the  Shelter  that 
I  regard  as  the  most  useful  feature  in  this  part  of  our  undertaking, 
for  if  anything  is  to  be  done  to  get  hold  of  those  who  use  the  DepOt, 
some  more  favourable  opportunity  must  be  afforded  than  is  offered 
by  the  mere  coming  into  the  food  store  to  get,  perhaps,  only  a  basin 
of  soup.  This  part  of  the  Scheme  I  propose  to  extend  very 
considerably. 

Suppose  that  you  are  a  casual  in  the  streets  of  London,  homeless, 
friendless,  weary  with  looking  for  work  all  day  and  finding  none. 
Night  comes  on.  Where  are  you  to  go  ?  You  have  perhaps  only 
a  few  coppers,  or  it  may  be,  a  few  shillings,  left  of  the  rapidly 
dwindling  store  of  your  little  capital.  You  shrink  from  sleeping  in 
the  open  air ;  you  equally  shrink  from  going  to  the  fourpenny  Doss- 
house  where,  in  the  midst  of  strange  and  ribald  company,  you  may 
be  robbed  of  the  remnant  of  the  money  still  in  your  possession. 
While  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to  do,  someone  who  sees  you  suggests 


AT    A   SHELTER    5EP0T. 


97 


iliat  you  should  go  to  our  Shelter.  You  cannot,  of  course,  go  to  the 
Casual  Ward  of  the  Workhouse  as  long  as  you  have  any  money  in 
your  possession.  You  come  along  to  one  of  our  Shelters.  On 
entering  you  pay  fourpence,  and  are  free  (jf  the  establishment  for 
the  night.  You  can  come  in  early  or  late.  The  company  begins  to 
assemble  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  women's 
Shelter  you  find  that  many  come  much  earlier  and  sit  sewing, 
reading  or  chatting  in  the  sparely  furnished  but  well  warmed  -oom 
from  the  early  hours  of  the  afternoon  until  bedtime. 

You  come  in,  and  you  get  a  large  pot  of  coffee,  tea,  or  cocoa,  and 
a  hunk  of  bread.  You  can  go  into  the  wash-house,  where  you  can 
have  a  wash  with  plenty  of  warm  water,  and  soap  and  towels  free. 
Then  after  having  washed  and  eaten  you  can  make  yourself 
comfortable.  You  can  write  letters  to  your  friends,  if  you  have  any 
friends  to  v/rite  to,  or  you  can  read,  or  you  can  sit  quietly  and  do 
nothing.  At  eight  o'clock  the  Shelter  is  tolerably  full,  and  then 
begins  what  we  consider  to  be  the  indispenpable  feature  of  the 
whole  concern.  Two  or  three  hundred  men  in  the  men's  Shelter,  or 
as  many  women  in  the  women's  Shelter,  are  collected  together,  most 
of  them  strange  to  each  other,  in  a  large  room.  They  are  all  wretchedly 
poor — what  are  you  to  do  with  them  ?    This  is  what  we  do  with  them. 

We  hold  a  rousing  Salvation  meeting.     The  Officer  in  charge  of 
the  Depot,  assisted  by  detachments  from  the  Training  Homes,  con- 
ducts a  jovial   free-and-easy  social  evening.     The  girls  have  their 
banjos  and  their  tambourines,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  you  have 
as  Hvely  a  meeting  as  you  will  find  in   London.     There  is  prayer, 
short  and  to  the  point ;  there  are  addresses,  some  delivered  by  the  ' 
leaders  of  the  meeting,  but  the  most  of  them  the  testimonies  of  those 
who  have  been  saved  at  previous  meetings,  and  who,  rising  in  their 
seats,  tell  their  companions  their  experiences.     Strange  experiences 
they  often  are  of  those  who  have  been  down  in  the  very  bottomless 
depths  of  sin  and  vice  and  misery,  but  who  have  found  at  last  firm 
footing  on  which  to  stand,  and  who  are,  as  they  say  in  all  sincerity, 
"  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long."     There  is  a  joviality  and  a  genuine 
good  feeling  at  some  of  these  meetings  which  is  refreshing  to  the 
soul.     There   are   all   sorts   and  conditions  of  men  ;  casuals,  gaol 
birds,  Out-of- Works,  who  have  come  there  for  the  first  time,  and  who 
find  men  who  last  week  or  last  month  were  even  as  they  themselves 
are  now — still  poor  but  rejoicing  in  a  sense  of  brotherhood  and  a 
consciousness  of  their  being  no  longer  outcasts  and  forlorn  in  this 


M-  "  'I 


98 


FOOD    AND    SHELTER    FOR    EVERY    MAN. 


h 


Hi 

in 


i-:Ti 


.1 


!' ■1f 


wide  world.  There  are  men  who  have  at  last  seen  revive  before 
them  a  hope  of  escaping  from  that  dreadful  vortex,  into  which  their 
sins  and  misfortunes  had  drawn  them,  and  being  restored  to  those 
comforts  that  they  had  feared  so  long  were  gone  for  ever;  nay, 
of  rising  to  live  a  true  and  Godly  life.  These  tell  their  mates  how 
this  has  come  aboat,  and  urge  all  who  hear  them  to  try  for 
themselves  and  see  whether  it  is  not  a  good  and  happy  thing 
to  be  soundly  saved.  In  the  intervals  of  testimony— and  these 
testimonies,  as  every  one  will  bear  me  witness  who  has  ever  attended 
any  of  our  meetings,  are  not  long,  sanctimonious  lackadaisical 
speeches,  but  simple  confessions  of  individual  experience — there  are 
bursts  of  hearty  melody.  The  conductor  of  the  meeting  will  start 
up  a  verse  or  two  of  a  hymn  illustrative  of  the  experiences  mentioned 
by  the  last  speaker,  or  one  of  the  girls  from  the  Training  Home  will 
sing  a  solo,  accompanying  herself  on  her  instrument,  while  all  join 
in  £.  rattling  and  rollicking  chorus. 

There  is  no  compulsion  upon  anyone  of  our  dossers  to  take  part 
in  this  meeting  ;  they  do  not  need  to  come  in  until  it  is  over  ;  but  as 
a  simple  matter  of  fact  they  do  come  in.  Any  night  between  eight 
and  ten  o'clock  you  will  find  these  people  sitting  there,  listening  to 
the  exhortations  and  taking  part  in  the  singing,  many  of  them,  no 
doubt,  unsympathetic  enough,  but  nevertheless  preferring  to  be  presenx 
with  the  music  and  the  warmth,  mildly  stirred,  if  only  by  curiosity, 
as  the  various  testimonies  are  delivered. 

Sometimes  these  testimonies  are  enough  to  rouse  the  most  cynical 
of  observers.  We  had  at  one  of  .our  shelters  the  captain  of  an 
ocean  steamer,  who  had  sunk  to  the  depths  of  destitution  through 
strong  drink.  He  came  in  there  one  night  utterly  desperate  and  was 
taken  in  hand  by  our  people — and  with  us  taking  in  hand  is  no  mere 
phrase,  for  at  the  close  of  our  meetings  our  officers  go  from  seat  to 
seat,  and  if  they  see  anyone  who  shows  signs  of  being  affected  by  the 
speeches  or  the  singing,  at  once  sit  down  beside  him  and  begin  to 
labour  with  him  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  By  this  means  they 
are  able  to  get  hold  of  the  men  and  to  know  exactly  where  the 
difficulty  lies,  what  the  trouble  is,  and  if  they  do  nothing  else,  at  least 
succeed  in  convincing  them  that  there  is  someone  who  cares  for  their 
soul  and  would  do  what  he  could  to  lend  them  a  helping  hand. 

The  cf  ptain  of  whom  I  was  speaking  was  got  hold  of  in  this  way. 
He  was  deeply  impressed,  and  was  induced  to  abandon  once  and  for 
all  his  habits  of  intemperance.     From  that  meeting  he  went  an 


HE  SALVATION    DOSS    HOUSE. 


99 


altered  man.  He  regained  his  position  in  the  merchant  service,  and 
twelve  months  afterwards  astonished  us  all  by  appearing  in  the 
uniform  of  a  captain  of  a  large  ocean  steamer,  to  testify  to  those 
who  were  there  how  low  he  had  been,  how  utterly  he  had  lost  all 
hold  on  Society  and  all  hope  of  the  future,  when,  fortunately  led  to 
the  Shelter,  he  found  friends,  counsel,  and  salvation,  and  from  that 
time  had  never  rested  until  he  had  regained  the  position  which  he 
had  forfeited  by  his  intemperance. 

The  meeting  over,  the  singing  girls  go  back  to  the  Training  Home, 
and  the  men  prepare  for  bed.  Our  sleeping  arrangements  are 
somewhat  primitive  ;  we  do  not  provide  feather  beds,  and  when  you 
go  into  our  dormitories,  you  will  be  surprised  to  find  the  floor 
covered  by  what  look  like  an  endless  array  of  packing  cases.  These 
are  our  beds,  and  each  of  them  forms  a  cubicle.  There  is  a  mattress 
laid  on  the  floor,  and  over  the  mattress  a  leather  apron,  which  is  al! 
the  bedclothes  that  we  find  it  possible  to  provide.  The  men 
undress,  each  by  the  side  of  liis  packing  box,  and  go  to  sleep  under 
their  leather  covering.  The  dormitory  is  warmed  with  hot  water 
pipes  to  a  te;nperature  of  60  degrees,  and  there  has  never  been  any 
complaint  of  lack  of  wTirmth  on  the  part  of  those  who  use  the 
Shelter.  The  leather  can  be  kept  perfectly  clean,  and  the 
mattresses,  covered  with  American  cloth,  are  carefully  inspected 
every  day,  so  that  no  stray  specimen  of  vermin  may  h.. 
left  in  the  place.  The  men  turn  in  about  ten  o'clock  and  sleep 
until  six.  We  have  never  any  disturbances  of  any  kind  in  the 
Shelters.  We  have  provided  accommodation  now  for  several 
thousand  of  the  most  helplessly  broken-down  men  in  London, 
criminals  many  of  them,  mendicants,  tramps,  those  who  are  among 
tiie  filth  and  offscouring  of  all  things;  but  such  is  the  influence 
that  is  established  by  the  meeting  and  the  moral  ascendancy 
of  our  officers  themselves,  that  we  have  never  had  a 
fight  on  the  premises,  and  very  seldom  do  we  ever  hear 
an  oath  or  an  obscene  word.  Sometimes  there  has  been 
trouble  outside  the  Shelter,  when  men  insisted  upon  coming  in 
drunk  or  were  otherwise  violent ;  but  once  let  them  come  to 
the  Shelter,  and  get  into  the  swing  of  the  concern,  and  we 
have  no  trouble  with  them.  In  the  morning  they  get  up  and  have 
their  breakfast  and,  after  a  short  service,  go  off"  their  various  ways. 
We  find  that  we  can  do  this,  that  is  to  say,  we  can  provide  coffee 
and  bread  for  breakfast  and  for  supper,  and  a  shake-down  on  the 


';lii 


I 


*       !  ■ 


yf 


100 


FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 


J! 

% 


m 
"If* 


■■*. 
« , 


floor  in  the  packing-boxes   I  have  described  in  a  warm  dormitory 
for  fourpencc  a  head. 

I  propose  to  develop  these  Shelters,  so  as  to  afiord  every  man 
a  locker,  in  which  he  could  store  any  little  valuables  that  he 
may  possess.  I  would  also  allow  him  the  use  of  a  boiler  in 
the  washhouse  with  a  hot  drying  oven,  so  that  he  could  wash  his 
shirt  over  night  and  have  it  returned  to  him  dry  in  the  morning. 
Only  those  who  have  had  practical  experience  of  the  difficulty  of 
seeking  for  work  in  London  can  appreciate  the  advantages  of 
the  opportunity  to  get  your  shirt  washed  in  this  way — if 
you  have  one.  In  Trafalgar  Square,  in  1887,  there  were 
few  things  that  scandalised  the  public  more  than  the 
spectacle  of  the  poor  people  camped  in  the  Square,  washing  their 
shirts  in  the  early  morning  at  the  fountains.  If  you  talk  to  any  men 
who  have  been  on  the  road  for  a  lengthened  period  they  will  tell 
you  that  nothing  hurts  their  elf-respect  more  or  stands  more  fatally 
in  the  way  of  their  getting  a  job  than  the  im.possibility  of  getting 
their  little  things  done  up  and  clean. 

In  our  poor  man's  "Home"  everyone  could  at  least  keep  himself 
clean  and  have  a  clean  shirt  to  his  back,  in  a  plain  way,  no  doubt ; 
but  still  not  less  effective  than  if  he  were  to  be  put  up  at  one  of  the 
West  End  hotels,  and  would  be  able  to  secure  anyway  the  neces- 
saries of  life  while  being  passed  on  to  something  far  better.  This  is 
the  first  step. 

SOME  SHELTER  TROPHIES. 

Of  the  practical  results  which  have  followed  our  methods  of  deal- 
ing with  the  outcasts  who  take  shelter  with  us  we  have  many  striking 
examples.  Here  are  a  few,  each  of  them  a  transcript  of  a  life 
experience  relating  to  men  who  are  now  active,  industrious  members 
of  the  community  upon  which  but  for  the  agency  of  these  Depots  they 
would  have  been  preying  to  this  day. 

A.  S.— Born  in  Glasgow,  1825.  Saved  at  Clerkenwell,  May  19,  1889.  Poor 
parents  raised  in  a  Glasgow  Slum.  Wa5i  thrown  on  the  streets  at  seven  years 
ijf  age,  became  the  companion  and  assr  ate  of  thieves,  and  drifted  into  crime. 
The  following  are  his  terms  of  imprisonment : — 14  days,  30  days,  30  days,  60 
days,  60  days  (three  times  in  succession),  4  months,  6  months  (twice),  9  months, 
18  months,  2  years,  6  years,  7  years  (twice),  14  years  ;  40  years  3  months  and  6 
days  in  the  aggregate.     Was  flogged  for  violent  conduct  in  gaol  8  times. 

W.  M.  ("Buff").— Born  in  Deptford,  1864,  saved  at  Clerkenwell,  March 
31st,   1889.     His  father  was  an  old  Navy  man,   and  earned  a  decent  living 


SOME    SHF'.TER   TROPHIES. 


101 


as  manager.  Was  sober,  respectable,  and  trustworthy.  Mother  was  a  dis- 
reputable drunken  slattern  :  a  curse  and  disgrace  to  husband  and  family.  The 
home  was  broken  up,  and  little  Buff  was  given  over  to  the  evil  influences  of  hi;* 
depraved  mother.  His  7th  birthday  present  from  his  admiring  parent  was  a 
"  quarten  o'  gin."  He  got  some  education  at  the  One  Tun  Alley  Ragged  SchonI, 
but  when  nine  years  old  was  caught  apple  stealing,  and  sent  to  the  Industrial 
School  at  Uford  for  7  years.  Discharged  at  the  end  of  his  term,  he  drifted  (u 
the  streets,  the  casual  wards,  and  Metropolitan  gaols,  every  one  of  whose 
interiors  he  is  familiar  with.  He  became  a  ringleader  of  a  gang  that  infested 
London  ;  a  thorough  mendicant  and  ne'er-do-well ;  a  |)est  to  society.  Naturally 
he  is  a  born  leaiicr,  ana  one  o\  those  spirits  that  command  a  following;  cimse- 
(juently,  when  he  gut  Salvation,  the  major  part  of  his  following  came  after  hfm 
to  the  Shelter,  and  eventually  to  God.  His  character  since  conversion  has  been 
altogether  satisfactory,  and  he  is  now  an  Orderly  at  Whitechapel,  and  to  all 
appearances  a  "  true  lad." 

C.  W.  ("Frisco"). — Born  in  San  Francisco,  1862.  Saved  April  24tli, 
1889.  Taken  away  from  home  at  the  age  of  eight  years,  and  made  his  wayito 
Te.xas.  Here  he  took  up  life  amongst  the  Ranches  as  a  Cowboy,  and  varied  if 
with  occasional  trips  to  sea,  developing  into  a  typical  brass  and  rowdy.  He  had 
2  years  for  mutiny  at  sea,  4  years  for  mule  stealing,  5  years  for  cattle  stcah"ng, 
and  has  altogether  been  in  gaol  for  thirteen  years  and  eleven  months.  He  came 
over  to  England,  got  mixed  up  with  thieves  and  casuals  here,  and  did  several 
short  terms  of  imprisonment.  He  was  met  on  his  release  at  Millbank  by  an  old 
chum  (Buff)  and  the  Shelter  Captain  ;  came  to  Shelter,  got  saved,  and  has  stood 
firm. 

H.  A.— Born  at  Deptford,  1850.  Saved  at  Clerkenwell,  January  12th, 
1889.  Lost  mother  in  early  life,  step-mother  dirficulty  supervening,  and  a 
propensity  to  misappropriation  of  small  things  developed  into  thieving.  H<; 
followed  the  sea,  became  a  hard  drinker,  a  foul-mouthed  blasphemer,  and  a 
blatant  spouter  of  infidelity.  He  drifted  about  for  years,  ashore  and  afloat, 
and  eventually  reached  the  Shelter  stranded.  Here  he  sought  God,  and  has 
done  well.  This  summer  he  had  charge  of  a  gang  of  haymakers  sent  info 
the  country,  and  stood  the  ordeal  satisfactorily.  He  seems  honest  in  his 
profession,  and  strives  patiently  to  follow  after  God.  He  is  at  the 
workshops. 

H.    S. — Born   at  A ,    in   Scotland.       Like   most  Scotch   lads    although 

parents  were  in  poor  circumstances  he  managed  to  get  a  good  education. 
Early  in  life  he  took  to  newspaper  work,  and  picked  up  the  details  of  the 
journalistic  profession  in  several  prominent  papers  in  N.B.  Eventually  he  got 
a  position  on  a  provincial  newspaper,  and  having  put  in  a  course  at  Glasg-iw 
University,   graduated    B;A.    there.       After   this    he    was    on   tJie   staff  of   a 


tfl 


':,r 


'■■  .  .1. 

r.  I, 

f 


102 


FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 


li 


Welsh  paper.  He  married  a  decent  girl,  and  had  several  little  ones,  bni 
giving  way  to  drink,  lost  position,  wife,  family,  and  friends.  At  times 
he  would  struggle  up  and  recover  himself,  and  appears  generally  to  havi? 
been  able  to  lecure  a  position,  but  again  and  again  his  besctment  overcame 
liim,  and  each  time  he  would  drift  lower  and  lower.  For  a  time  he  was  engaginl 
in  secretarial  work  on  a  prominent  London  Charity,  but  fell  repeatedly,  and  at 
length  was  dismissed.  He  came  to  us  an  utter  outcast,  was  sent  to  Shelter  and 
Workshop  got  saved,  and  is  now  in  a  good  situation.  He  gives  every  promise, 
and  those  best  able  to  judge  seem  very  sanguine  that  at  last  a  real  good  work 
has  been  accomplished  in  him. 

F.  D. — Was  born  in  London,  and  brought  up  to  the  iron  trade.  Held  several 
good  situations,  losing  one  after  another,  from  drink  and  irregularity.  On  one 
occasion,  with/^2o  in  his  pocket,  he  started  for  Manchester,  got  drunk  there,  was 
locked  up  and  fined  five  shillings,  and  fifteen  shillings  costs  ;  this  he  paid,  and  as 
he  was  leavingthe  Court,  a  gentleman  stopped  him,  saying  that  he  knew  hisfather, 
and  inviting  him  to  his  house  ;  however,  with  ^lo  in  his  pocket,  he  was  too 
independent,  and  he  declined  ;  but  the  gentleman  gave  him  his  address,  and 
left  him.  A  few  days  squandered  his  cash,  and  clothes  soon  followed,  all  dis- 
appearing for  drink,  and  then  without  a  coin  he  presented  himself  at  the 
address  given  to  him,  at  ten  o'clock  at  night.  It  turned  out  to  be  his  uncle,  who 
gave  him  £2  to  go  back  to  London,  but  this  too  disappeared  for  liquor.  He 
tramped  back  to  London  utterly  destitute.  Several  nights  were  passed  on  the 
Emb'  kment,  and  on  one  occasion  a  gcntlema-i  gave  him  a  ticket  for  the 
Shelter ;  this,  however,  he  sold  for  2d.  and  had  a  pint  of  beer,  and  stopped  out 
all  night.  But  it  set  him  thinking,  and  he  determined  next  day  to  raise  4d.  and 
see  what  a  Shelter  was  like.  He  came  to  Whitecliapel,  became  a  regular  cus- 
tomer, eight  months  ago  got  saved,  and  is  now  doing  well. 

F.  H. — Was  born  at  Birmingham,  1858.  Saved  at  Whitechapcl,  March 
26th,  1890.  Father  died  in  his  infancy,  mother  marrj-ing  again.  The 
stepfather  was  a  drunken  navvy,  and  used  to  knock  the  mother  about,  and  the 
lad  was  left  to  the  streets.  At  I2  years  of  age  he  left  home,  and  tramped  to 
Liverpool,  begging  his  way,  and  sleeping  on  the  roadsides.  In  Livernool  he 
lived  about  the  Docks  for  some  days,  sleeping  where  he  could.  Police  lound 
him  and  returned  him  to  Birmingham ;  his  reception  being  an  unmerciful 
thrashing  from  the  drunken  stepfather.  He  got  several  jobs  as  errand-boy. 
remarkable  for  his  secret  pilferings,  and  two  j'ears  later  left  with  fifty  shillii.gs 
stolen  money,  and  reached  Middlesbrough  byroad.  Got  work  in  a  nail  factory, 
stayed  nine  months,  then  stole  nine  shillings  from  fellow-lodger,  and  again 
took  the  road.  He  reached  Birmingham,  and  finding  a  warrant  out  for  him, 
joined  tiie  Navy.  He  was  in  the  Impregnable  training-ship  three  years, 
behaved   himself,    only    getting    "  ope    do^en,"    and  was    transferred    with 


SOME    SHELTER    TROPHIES. 


103 


character  marked  "  good  "  to  the  Iron  Duke  in  tlie  China  seas ;  soon 
got  drinking,  and  was  locked  up  and  imprisoned  for  riotous  conduct  in 
almost  every  port  in  the  stations.  He  broke  ship,  and  deserted 
several  times,  and  was  a  thorough  specimen  of  a  bad  British  tar.  He 
saw  gaol  in  Signapore,  Hong  Kong,  Yokohama,  Siianghai,  Canton,  and  othrr 
places.  In  five  years  returned  home,  and,  after  furlough,  joined  the  Belle 
hie  in  the  Irish  station.  Whisky  here,  again  got  hold  of  him,  and  excess 
ruined  his  constitution.  On  his  leave  he  had  married,  and  on  his  discharge 
joined  his  wife  in  Birmingham,  For  some  time  he  worked  as  sweeper  in  the 
market,  but  two  years  ago  deserted  his  wife  ami  family,  and  came  to  London, 
settled  down  to  a  loafer's  life,  lived  on  the  streets  with  Casual  Wards  for  his 
home.  Eventually  came  to  Whitechapel  Shelter,  and  got  saved.  He  is  now 
a  trustworthy,  reliable  lad  ;  has  become  reconciled  to  wife,  who  came  to  London 
to  see  him,  and  he  bids  fair  to  be  a  useful  man. 

J.  W.  S. — Born  in  Plymouth.  His  parents  are  respectable  people.  He  is  clever 
at  his  business,  and  has  held  good  situations.  Two  years  ago  he  came  to  London, 
fell  into  evil  courses,  and  took  to  drink.  Lost  situation  after  situation,  and  kept  on 
drinking  ;  lost  everything,  and  came  to  the  streets.  He  found  out  Westminster 
Shelter,  and  eventually  got  saved  ;  his  parents  were  communicated  with,  and  help 
and  clothes  forthcoming  ;  with  Salvation  came  hope  and  energy  ;  he  got  a  situation 
at  Lewisham  (7d.  per  hour)  at  his  trade.  Four  months  standing,  and  is  a 
promising  Soldier  as  well  as  a  respectable  mechanic. 

J.  T. — Born  in  Ireland  ;  well  educated  (commercially)  ;  ^clerk  and  accountant. 
Early  in  life  joined  the  (Jueens  .Army,  and  by  j^ood  conduct  worked  his  way 
up.  Was  orderly-room  clerk  ami  paymaster's  assistant  in  his  regiment. 
He  led  a  steady  life  whilst  in  the  service,  and  at  the  expiration  of  his 
term  passed  into  the  Reser\'e  with  a  "  very  good  "  character.  He  was  a  long 
time  unemployed,  and  this  appears  to  have  reduced  him  to  despair,  and  so  to 
drink.  He  sank  to  the  lowest  ebb,  and  came  to  Westminster  in  a  deplorable 
condition  ;  coatless,  hatless,  shirtless,  dirty  altogether,  a  fearful  specimen  ol 
what  a  man  of  good  parentage  can  be  brought  to.  After  being  at  Shelter  some 
time,  he  got  saved,  was  passed  to  Workshops,  and  gave  great  satisfaction.  At 
present  he  is  doing  clerical  work  and  gives  satisfaction  as  a  workman  ;  a  good 
influence  in  the  place. 

J,  S. — Born  in  London,  of  decent  parentage.  From  a  child  he  exhibited 
thieving  propensities ;  soon  got  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  and  was 
in  and  out  of  gaol  continually.  He  led  the  life  of  a  confirmed  tramp,  and  roved 
all  over  the  United  Kingdoin.  He  has  been  in  penal  servitude  three  times,  and 
his  last  term  was  for  seven  years,  with  police  supervision.  After  his  release  In- 
married  a  respectable  girl,  and  tried  to  reform,  but  circumstances  were  against  him  ; 
character  he  had  none,  a  gaol  career  only  to  recommend  him,  and  so  he  amJ 


■':) 


104 


FOOD  AND  SHELTER  FOR  EVERY  MAN. 


II 
II 


II      !       > 


his  wife  evriitiially  drifted  to  destitution.  Tlicy  came  to  tiic  Siieiter,  and  askrd 
advice  ;  they  were  received,  and  he  made  application  to  the  sitting  Maf?istrat<'  at 
Clcri<cM\vcil  as  to  a  situation,  and  wiiat  he  ou^ht  to  do.  Tiio  Mapistralr 
helped  liini,  and  thanked  tiu;  Salvation  Army  for  its  cfTorts  in  bi-lialf  of  him  ami 
such  as  ho,  and  asked  us  to  look  after  the  applicant.  A  little  work  was  ({ivcn 
him,  and  .iftcr  a  time  a  good  situation  procured.  To-day  they  have  a  good 
time  ;  In-  is  steadily  employed,  and  both  are  serving  God,  holding  the  resjieet 
and  (•oniidence  of  neiKhhours,  etc. 

E.  G.  Came  to  England  in  the  ser\'ice  of  a  family  ot  position,  and 
afterwards  was  butler  and  upper  servant  in  several  houses  of  the  nobility.  His 
liealth  broke  down,  and  for  a  long  time  he  was  altogether  unlit  for  work.  lie 
had  saved  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  f)ut  the  cost  of  doctors  and  tlie  neces- 
saries of  a  sick  man  soon  played  liavoc  with  his  little  store,  and  he  became 
reduced  to  penury  and  absolute  u'ant.  For  some  time  he  was  Im  the  Workhouse, 
and,  being  discharged,  he  was  advised  to  go  to  the  Shelter.  He  was  low  in 
health  as  well  as  in  circumstances,  and  broken  in  spirit,  almost  desp;iiring.  He 
was  lovingly  advised  to  cast  his  care  upon  God.  and  eventually  he  was  con- 
verted. After  some  time  work  was  obtained  as  pnrter  in  a  City  warehouse. 
Assiduity  and  faithfulness  in  a  year  raised  him  to  the  position  of  traveller.  To- 
day he  prospers  in  body  and  soul,  retaining  the  respect  and  confidence  of  all 
associated  with  him. 

We  might  multiply  these  fecords,  but  those  given  show  the  kind 
of"  results  attained. 

There's  no  reason  to  think  that  influences  which  have  been 
blessed  of  God  to  the  salvation  ot*  these  poor  fellows  will  not  be 
equally  efficacious  if  applied  on  a  wider  scale  and  over  a  vaster 
area.  The  thing  to  be  noted  in  all  these  ,.jes  is  that  it  was  not  the 
mere  feeding  which  eflected  the  result;  it  was  the  combination  of  the 
feeding  with  the  personal  labour  for  the  individual  soul.  Still,  if  we 
had  net  fed  them,  we  should  never  have  come  near  enough  to  gain 
any  hold  upon  their  hearts.  If  we  had  merely  fed  them,  they  would 
nave  gone  away  next  day  to  resume,  with  increased  energy,  the 
predatory  and  vagrant  life  which  they  had  been  leading.  But  when 
our  feeding  and  Shelter  Depots  brought  them  to  close  quarters,  our 
officers  were  literally  able  to  put  their  arms  round  their  necks  and 
plead  with  them  as  brethren  who  had  gone  astray.  We  told  them 
that  their  sins  and  sorrows  had  no*^  shut  them  out  from  the  love  of  the 
Everlasting  Father,  who  had  sent  us  to  them  to  help  them  with  all  the 
power  of  our  strong  Organisation,  of  the  Divine  authority  of  which  we 
never  feel  so  sure  as  when  it  is  going  forth  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 


IS. 


Section  2.— WORK  FDR  THE  OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE  FACTORY. 


The  foregoing,  it  will  be  said,  is  all  vti  y  well  for  your  outcast  when 
lie  has  got  fourpeiice  in  his  pocket,  but  wiiat  if  he  has  not  got  his 
fourpence  ?  Wiiat  if  you  are  confronted  with  a  crowd  of  hungry 
desperate  wretches,  without  even  a  penny  in  their  pouch,  demanding 
food  and  shelter  ?  Tliis  objection  is  natural  enough,  and  has  been 
duly  considered  from  the  first. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  connection  with  every  Food  and  Shelter 
Depot  a  Workshop  or  Labour  Yard,  in  vvhicii  any  person  who  comes 
destitute  and  starving  will  be  supplied  with  sufficient  work  to  enable 
him  to  earn  the  fourpence  needed  for  his  bed  and  board.  This  is  a 
fundamental  feature  of  the  Scheme,  and  one  which  I  think  will 
commend  it  to  all  those  who  are  anxious  to  benefit  the  poor  by 
enabling  them  to  help  themselves  without  the  demoralising  interven- 
titm  of  charitable  relief. 

Let  us  take  our  stand  for  a  moment  at  the  door  of  one  of  our 
Shelters.  There  comes  along  a  grimy,  ragged,  footsore  tramp,  his 
feet  bursting  out  from  the  sides  of  his  shoes,  his  clothes  all  rags, 
witii  filthy  shirt  and  towselled  hair.  He  has  been,  he  tells  you,  on 
the  trap  p  for  the  last  three  weeks,  seeking  work  and  finding  none, 
slept  last  night  on  the  Kmbankment,  and  wants  to  know  if  you  can 
give  him  a  bite  and  a  sup,  and  shelter  for  the  night,  lias  he  any 
money  ?  Not  he  ;  he  probably  spent  the  last  penny  he  begged  or 
earned  in  a  pipe  of  tobacco,  with  which  to  dull  the  cravings  of  his 
hungry  stomach.     What  are  you  to  do  with  this  man  ? 

Remember  this  is  no  fancy  sketch — it  is  a  typical  case.  There 
are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  such  applicants.  Any  one  who  is 
at  all  familiar  with  life  in  London  and  our  other  large  towns,  will 
recognise  that  gaunt  figure  standing  there  asking  for  bread  and 
shelter  or  for  work  by  which  he  can  obtain  both.  What  can  we 
do  with  him  ?  Before  him  Society  stand.^  paralysed,  quieting  its 
conscience  every   now    and    then  by  an    occasional  dole  of  bread 


I  . 


J'  '  ill 


106       WORK    FOR   THE   OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE    FACTORY. 


'■■!' 
-Hi 


and  soup,  varied  with  the  semi-crimiiial  treatment  of  the  Casual 
Ward,  until  the  manhood  is  crushed  out  of  the  man  and  you  have  in 
yourhands  a  reckless,  despairing,  spirir  broken  creature,  with  not  even 
an  aspiration  to  rise  above  his  miserable  circumstances,  covered  with 
vermin  and  filth,  sinking  ever  lower  and  lower,  until  at  last  he  is 
hurried  out  of  siglit  in  the  rough  shell  which  carries  him  to  a  pauper's 
grave. 

I  propose  to  take  that  man,  put  a  strong  arm  round  him,  and 
e.xtricate  him  from  the  mire  in  which  he  is  all  but  suftbcated.  As  a 
first  step  we  will  say  to  him,  '*  You  are  hungry,  here  is  food ;  you 
are  homeless,  here  is  a  shelter  for  your  head  ;  but  remember  you 
must  work  for  your  rations.  This  is  not  charity  ;  it  is  work  for  the 
workless,  help  for  those  who  cannot  help  themselves.  There  is  tlie 
labour  shed,  go  and  earn  your  fourpence,  and  then  come  in  out  of 
the  cold  and  the  wet  into  the  warm  shelter  ;  here  is  your  mug  of 
coffee  and  your  great  chunk  of  bread,  and  after  you  have  finished 
these  there  is  a  meeting  going  on  in  full  swing  with  its  joyful  music 
and  hearty  human  intercourse.  There  are  those  who  pray  for  you 
and  with  you,  and  will  make  you  feel  yourself  a  brother  among  men. 
There  is  j'our  shake-down  on  the  floor,  where  you  will  have  your 
warm,  quiet  bed,  undisturbed  by  the  ribaldry  and  curses  witl.  which 
you  have  been  familiar  too  long.  There  is  the  wash-house,  where 
you  can  have  a  thorough  wash-up  at  last,  after  all  these  days  of 
unwashedness.  There  is  plenty  of  soap  and  warm  water  and  clean 
towels ;  there,  too,  you  can  wash  your  shirt  and  have  it  dried  while 
you  sleep.  In  the  morning  when  you  get  ut  there  will  be  breakfast 
for  you,  and  3'our  shirt  will  be  dry  and  clean.  Then  when  you  are 
washed  and  rested,  and  are  no  longer  faint  with  hunger,  you  can  go 
and  seek  a  job,  or  go  back  to  the  Labour  shop  until  something  better 
turns  up," 

But  where  and  how  ? 

Now  let  me  introduce  you  to  cur  Labour  Yard.  Mere  is  no 
pretence  of  charity  beyond  the  charity  which  gives  a  man  remunera- 
tive labour.  It  is  not  our  business  to  pay  men  wages.  What  we 
propose  is  to  enable  those,  male  or  female,  who  are  destitute,  to  earn 
their  rations  and  do  enough  work  to  pay  for  their  lodging  until  they 
are  able  to  go  out  into  the  v/o'id  and  earn  wages  for  themselves. 
There  is  no  compulsion  upon  any  one  to  resort  to  our  shelter,  but  if 
a  penniless  man  wants  food  he  must,  as  a  rule,  do  work  sufficient  to 
pay  for  what  he  has  of  that  and  of  other  accommodation.  I  say  as  a  rule- 


NOT    CHARITY,    BUT    WORK. 


107 


bccadse,  of  course,  our  Officers  will  be  allowed  to  make  exceptions  in 
extreme  cases,  but  the  rule  will  be  first  work  then  cat.  And 
that  amount  of  work  will  be  exacted  rigorously.  It  is  that  which 
distinguishes  this  Scheme  from  mere  charitable  relief. 

I  do  not  wish  to  have  any  hand  in  establishing  a  new  centre  of 
demoralisation.  I  do  not  want  my  customers  to  be  pauperised  by 
being  treated  to  anything  which  they  do  not  earn.  To  develop 
self-respect  in  the  man,  to  make  him  feel  that  at  last  he  has 
got  his  foot  planted  on  the  first  rung  of  the  ladder  wliich  leads 
upwards,  is  vitally  important,  and  this  cannot  be  done  unless  the 
bargain  between  him  and  me  is  strictly  carried  out.  So  much  coffee, 
so  much  bread,  so  much  slielter,  so  much  warmth  and  light  from  me, 
but  so  much  labour  in  return  from  him. 

What  labour  ?  it  is  a-:kcd.  For  answer  to  this  question  I  would 
like  to  take  you  down  to  ouj-  Industrial  Workshops  in  Whitechapel. 
There  you  will  sec  the  Scheme  in  experimental  operation.  What  we 
are  doing  there  we  propose  to  do  everywhere  up  to  the  extent  of  the 
necessity,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  fail  elsewhere  if  we 
can  succeed  there. 

Oui  Industrial  Factory  at  Whitechapel  was  established  this  Spring. 
We  opened  it  on  a  very  small  scale.  It  has  developed  until  we  have 
nearly  ninety  men  at  work.  Some  of  these  are  skilled  workmen 
who  are  engaged  in  carpentry.  The  particular  job  they  have  now 
in  hand  is  '  e  making  of  benches  for  the  Salvation  Army.  Others 
are  engaged  in  mat  making,  some  are  cobblers,  others  painters,  and 
so  forth.  This  trial  effort  has,  so  far,  answered  ailmirably.  No 
one  who  is  taken  on  comes  for  a  permanency.  So  long  as  he  is 
willing  to  work  for  his  rations  he  is  supplied  with  materials  and 
provided  with  skilled  superintendents.  The  hours  of  work  are 
eight  per  day.  Here  are  the  rules  and  regulations  under  which  the 
work  is  carried  on  at  prcserit  : — 

THE    SALVATION    ARMY    SOCIAL    REFORM    WING. 
Temporary  IL.  k|iiarters — 

36,  Upper  Tuames  Street,  London,  E.C. 
CITY  INDUSTRIAL  WORKSHOPS. 
Objects. — These  worksliops  are  open  for  tlic  relief  of  tlie  unemployed  and 
destitute,  the  object  being  to  make  it  unnecessary  for  the  homeless  or  workless 
to  be  compelled  to  go  to  the  Workhouse  or  Casual  Wyrd,  food  and  shelter  being 
pnn-ided  for  tl^;m  in  exchange  for  work  done  by  them,  until  they  can  p.ocuic 
work  for  themselves,  or  it  can  be  found  for  them  elsewh' re. 


'I 

i    I 


H 


M         J 


108       WORK    FOR   THE   OUT-OF-WORKS.  -THE   FACTORY. 


r"    fflH: 


WH 


\i  4 


i 


Plan  ok  Operation.— All  those  applying  for  assistance  will  be  placed  in 
what  is  terined  the  first  class.  They  must  be  willing  to  do  any  kind  of  work 
allotted  to  them.  While  they  remain  in  the  iirst  class,  they  shall  be  entitled  to 
tliree  meals  a  day,  and  shelter  for  the  night,  and  will  be  expected  in  return  to 
cheerfully  perform  the  work  allotted  to  them. 

Promotions  will  be  made  from  tins  first-class  to  the  second-class  of  all  those 
considered  eligible  by  t!;e  Labour  Directors.  They  will,  in  addition  to  the  food 
and  shelter  above  mentioned,  receive  sums  of  money  up  to  5s.  at  the  end  of  the 
week,  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  them  to  provide  themselves  with  tools,  to  get 
work  outside. 

Regulations. — No  snoking,  drinking,  bad  language,  or  conduct  calculated 
to  demoralize  will  be  permitted  on  the  factory  premises.  No  one  under  the 
influence  of  drink  will  be  admitted.  Any  one  refusing  to  work,  or  guilty  of  bad 
conduct,  will  be  required  to  leave  the  premises. 

Hours  ok  Work. — 7  a.m.  to  8.30  a.m.;  9  a.m.  to  i  p.m.;  2  p.m.  to  5.30  p.m. 
Doors  will  be  closed  5  minutes  after  7,  9,  and  2  p.m.  Food  Checks  will  be 
given  to  all  as  they  pass  out  at  each  meal  time.  Meals  and  Shelter  provided  at 
272,  Whitechapel  Road. 

Our  practical  experience  shows  that  we  can  provide  work  by  which 
a  man  can  earn  his  rations.  We  shall  be  careful  not  to  sell  the  goods 
so  manufactured  at  less  than  the  market  prices.  In  firewood,  for 
instance,  we  have  endeavoured  to  be  rather  above  the  average  than 
below  it.  As  stated  elsewhere,  we  are  firmly  opposed  to  injuring 
one  class  of  workmen  while  helping  another. 

Attempts  on  somewhat  similar  lines  to  those  now  being  described 
have  hitherto  excited  the  liveliest  feelings  of  jealousy  on  the  part  of 
the  Trade  Unions,  and  representatives  of  labour.  They  rightly 
consider  it  unfair  that  labour  partly  paid  for  out  of  the  Rates  and 
Taxes,  or  by  Charitable  Contributions,  should  be  put  upon  the  market 
at  less  than  market  value,  and  so  compete  unjustly  with  the  pro- 
duction of  those  who  have  in  ti:e  first  instance  to  furnish  an  impor- 
tant quota  of  the  funds  by  which  these  Criminal  or  Pauper  workers 
are  supported.  No  such  jealousy  can  justly  exist  in  relation  to  our 
Scheme,  seeing  that  we  are  endeavouring  to  raise  the  standard  of 
labour  and  are  pledged  to  a  war  to  the  death  against  sweating  in 
every  shape  and  form. 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  how  do  these  Out-of-Works  conduct 
themselves  when  you  get  them  into  the  Fac^^c^ry  ?  Upon  this  point  I 
have  a  very  satisfactory  report  to  render.  Many,  no  doubt,  are  below 
par,  under-fed,  and  suffering  from  ill  heakh,  or  the  consequence  of 


THE    RESULT    OF    PRACTICAL    EXPERIMENT. 


109 


'I 


their  intemperance.  Many  also  are  old  men,  who  have  been  crowrled 
out  of  the  labour  market  by  their  younger  generation.  But,  without 
making  too  mr.ny  allowances  on  these  grounds,  I  may  fairly  say  that 
these  men  have  shown  themselves  not  only  anxious  and  willing,  but 
able  to  work.     Ov.r  Factory  Superintendent  reports  : — 

Of  loss  of  time  tl)oro  luis  practically  been  iiono  since  the  o]iciiinR,  June  29tli. 

Kacli   man   dniing   liis   stay,  wiii:   liardly  an   exc(>pti()n,    has   presented  liimself 

|)Mnctnally  at  opening  time  and  worked  meie  or  iess  assichiotisly  the  wliole  of 

th.";  labour  hours.     Ti.e  morals  of  the  men  have  been  good,  in  not  more  than 

three  instances  has  there  been  an  overt  act  of  disobedience,  insubordination,  or 

mischief     The  men,  as  a  whole,  are  imiformly  civil,  willing,  and  satisfied  ;  they 

are  all  fairly  indnstrioiis,  some,  and  that  not  a  few,  arc  assiduous  and  energetic. 

The  Foremen  have  had  no  serious  complaints  to  make  or  delinquencies  to  report. 

On   the    1 5th  of  August   I  had  a  return  made  of  the  names  and 

trades  and  mode  of  employment  of  the  men  at  work.     Of  the  fort}' 

in  the  shops  at  that  moment,  eight  were  carpenters,  twelve  labourers, 

two  tailors,  two  sailors,  three  clerks,  two  engineers,  while  among  the 

rest  was  a  shoemaker,  two  grocers,  a  cooper,  asailmaker,  a  musician, 

a  painter,  and  a  stonemason.     Nineteen  of  these  were  employed  in 

-sawing,  cutting  and  tying  up  firewood,  six  were  making  mats,  seven 

making  sacks,  and  the  rest  were    employed    in  various    odd  jobs. 

Among  them  was  a  Russian  carpenter  who  could  not  speak  a  word 

of  English.     Tlie  whole  place  is  a  hive  of  industry  which  fills  the 

hearts  of  those  who  go  to  see   it  with  hope  that  something  is  about 

to  be  done  to  solve  the  difliculty  of  the  uncmplo>ed. 

Although  our  Factories  will  be  permanent  institutions  they  will  not 
be  anything  more  than  temporary  resting-places  to  those  who  avail 
themselves  ot  their  advantages.  They  are  harbours  of  refuge  into 
which  the  storm-tossed  workman  may  run  and  re-fit,  so  that  he  may 
again  push  ouc  to  the  ordinary  sea  of  labour  and  earn  his  living. 
The  establishment  of  these  Industrial  Factories  seems  to  be  one  of 
the  most  obvious  duties  of  those  who  would  effectually  doal  with  the 
Social  Problem.  They  are  as  indispensable  a  link  in  the  chain  of 
deliverance  as  the  Shelters,  but  they  are  only  a  link  and  not  a 
stopping-place.  And  we  do  not  propose  that  they  should  be 
regarded  as  anything  but  stepping-stones  to  better  things. 

These  Shops  will  also  be  of  service  for  men  and  v;omen  temporarily 
unemployed  who  have  families,  and  who  possess  some  sort  of  a 
home.  In  numerous  instances,  if  by  any  means  these  unfortunates 
could  find   bread   and  rent  for  a  few  weeks,  they  would  tide  over 


I'ti 


1^ 


■■!; ,  i 


;    ! 


110        WORK   FOR  THE  OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE   FACTORY. 

their  difficulties,  and  an  untold  amount  of  misery  would  be  averted. 
In  such  cases  Work  would  be  supplied  at  their  own  homes  where 
preferred,  especially  for  the  women  and  children,  and  such  remunera- 
tion would  be  aimed  at  as  would  supply  the  immediate  necessities  of 
the  hour.  To  those  who  have  rent  to  pay  and  families  to  support 
something  beyond  rations  would  be  indispensable. 

The  Labour  Shops  will  enable  us  to  work  out  our  Anti-Sweating 
experiments.  For  instance,  we  propose  at  once  to  commence  manu- 
facturing match  boxes,  for  which  we  shall  aim  at  giving  nearly  treble 
the  amount  at  present  paid  to  the  poor  starving  creatures  engaged  in 
this  work. 

In  all  these  workshops  our  success  will  depend  upon  the  extent 
to  which  we  are  able  to  establish  and  maintain  in  the  minds  of  the 
workers  sound  moral  sentiments  and  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  hope- 
fulness and  aspiration.  We  shall  continually  seek  to  impress  upon 
them  the  fact  that  while  we  desire  to  feed  the  hungry,  and  clothe  the 
naked,  and  provide  shelter  for  the  shelterless,  we  are  still  more 
anxious  to  bring  about  that  regeneration  of  heart  and  life  which  is 
essential  to  their  future  happiness  and  well-being. 

But  no  compulsion  will  for  a  moment  be  allowed  with  respect  to 
religion.  The  man  who  professes  to  love  and  serve  God  will  be 
helped  because  of  such  profession,  and  the  man  who  does  not  will 
be  helped  in  the  hope  that  he  will,  sooner  or  later,  in  grati- 
tude to  God,  do  the  same  ;  but  there  will  be  no  melancholy  misery- 
making  for  any.  There  is  no  sanctimonious  long  face  in  the 
Army.  We  talk  freely  about  Salvation,  because  it  is  to  us 
the  very  light  and  joy  of  our  existence.  We  are  happy,  and  we 
wish  others  to  share  our  joy.  We  know  by  our  own  experience 
that  life  is  a  very  different  thing  when  we  have  found  the  peace 
of  God,  and  are  working  together  with  Him  for  the  salvation  of  the 
world,  instead  of  toiling  for  t-ie  realisation  of  worldly  ambition  or 
the  amassing  of  earthly  gain. 


hi:   , 


M     ' 


(     I; 
'    (I 


Section  3.— THE  REGIMENTATION  OF  THE  UNEMPLOYED. 

When  we  have  got  the  homeless,  penniless  tramp  washed,  and 
housed,  and  fed  at  the  Shelter,  and  have  secured  him  the  means  of 
earning  his  fourpence  by  chopping  firewood,  or  making  mats  or 
cobbling  the  shoes  of  his  fellow-labourers  at  the  Factory,  we  have 
next  to  seriously  address  ourselves  to  the  problem  of  how  to  help 
him  to  get  back  into  the  regular  ranks  of  industry.  The  Shelter  and 
the  Factory  are  but  stepping-stones,  which  have  this  advantage,  they 
give  us  time  to  look  round  and  to  see  what  there  is  in  a  man  and 
what  we  can  make  of  him. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  thing  to  do  is  to  ascertain  whether 
there  is  any  demand  in  the  regular  market  for  the  labour  which  is 
thus  thrown  upon  our  hands.  In  order  to  ascertain  this  I  have 
already  established  a  Labour  Bureau,  the  operations  of  which  I 
shall  at  once  largely  extend,  at  which  employers  can  register  their 
needs,  and  workmen  can  register  their  names  and  the  kind  of  work 
they  can  do. 

At  present  there  is  no  labour  exchange  in  existence  in  this  country. 
The  columns  of  the  daily  newspaper  are  the  only  substitute  for  this  much 
needed  register.  It  is  one  of  the  many  painful  consequences  arising 
from  the  overgrowth  of  cities.  In  a  village  where  everybody  knows 
everybody  else  this  necessity  does  not  exist.  If  a  farmer  wants  a 
couple  of  extra  men  for  mowing  or  some  more  women  for  binding 
at  harvest  time,  he  runs  over  in  his  mind  the  names  of  every  avail- 
able person  in  the  parish.  Even  in  a  small  town  there  is  little 
difficulty  in  knowing  who  wants  employment.  But  in  the  cities 
this  knowledge  is  not  available  ;  hence  we  constantly  hear  of  per- 
sons who  would  be  very  glad  to  employ  labour  foi  odd  jobs  in  an 
occasional  stress  of  work  while  at  the  same  time  hundreds  of  persons 
are  starving  for  want  of  work  at  another  end  of  the  town.  To  meet 
this  evil  the  laws  of  Supply  and  Demand  have  created  the  Sweating 


,   I,  :; 


■I   .1   •: 

'.  i.  ■. 


I  ■   '( 


K 


if  ^1 


112 


THE    REGIMENTATION    OF    THE    UNEMPLOYED. 


M 


Middlemen,  who  farm  out  the  unfortunates  and  charge  so  heavy  a 
commission  for  tlieir  share  that  tlie  poor  wretclics  who  do  the  work 
receive  hardly  enough  to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  I  propose 
to  change  all  this  by  establishing  Registers  which  will  enable  us  to 
lay  our  hands  at  a  moment's  notice  upon  all  the  unemployed  men  in 
a  district  in  any  particular  trade.  In  this  way  we  should  become 
the  universal  intermediary  between  those  who  have  no  employment 
and  those  who  want  workmen. 

In  this  we  do  not  propose  to  sr.persede  or  interfere  with  the 
regular  Trade  Unions.  Where  Unions  exist  we  should  place  our- 
selves in  every  case  in  communication  with  their  officials.  But  the 
most  helpless  mass  of  misery  is  to  be  found  among  the  unorganised 
labourers  who  have  no  Union,  and  who  are,  therefore,  the  natural 
prey  of  the  middleman.  Take,  for  instance,  on  of  the  most 
wretched  classes  of  the  community,  the  poor  fellows  who  per- 
ambulate the  streets  as  Sandwich  Men.  These  are  farmed  out  by 
certain  firms.  If  you  wish  to  send  fifty  or  a  hundred  men  through 
London  carrying  boards  announcing  the  excellence  of  your  goods, 
you  go  to  an  advertising  firm  who  will  undertake  to  supply  you 
with  as  many  sandwich  men  as  you  want  for  two  shillings  or  half  a 
crown  a  day.  The  men  are  forthcoming,  your  goods  are  advertised, 
you  pay  your  money,  but  how  much  of  that  goes  to  the  men  ? 
About  one  shilling,  or  one  shilling  and  threepence  ;  the  rest  goes  to 
the  middleman.  I  propose  to  supersede  this  middleman  by  forming 
a  Co-operative  Association  of  Sandwich  Men.  At  every  Shelter  there 
would  be  a  Sandwich  Brigade  ready  in  any  numbers  when  wantecj. 
The  cost  of  registration  and  organisation,  which  the  men  would 
gladly  pay,  need  not  certainly  amount  to  more  than  a  penny  in  the 
shilling. 

All  that  is  needed  is  to  establish  a  trustworthy  and  disinterested 
centre  round  which  the  unemployed  can  group  themselves,  and 
which  will  form  the  nucleus  of  a.  great  Co-operative  Self-helping 
Association.  The  advantages  of  such  a  Bureau  are  obvious.  But  in 
this,  also,  I  do  not  speak  from  theory.  I  have  behind  me  the 
experience  of  seven  months  of  labour  both  in  England  and  Australia. 
In  London  we  have  a  registration  office  in  Upper  Thames  Street, 
where  the  unemployed  come  every  morning  in  droves  to  register 
their  names  and  to  see  whether  they  can  obtain  situations.  In 
Australia,  I  see,  it  was  stated  in  the  House  of  Assembly  that  our 
Officers  had  been  instrumental  in  finding  situations  for  no  less  than 


THE    LABOUR    BUREAU    AT    WORK. 


113 


one  hundred  and  tliirty-two  "  Out-nf- Works  "  in  a  few  days.  Here, 
in  London,  we  have  succeeded  in  obtaining  employment  for  a  great 
number,  although,  of  course,  it  is  beyond  our  power  to  help  all 
those  who  apply.  We  have  sent  hay-makers  down  to  the  country 
and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  when  our  Organisation 
is  better  known,  and  in  more  extended  operation,  we  shall 
have  a  great  labour  exchange  between  town  and  country,  so 
that  when  there  is  scarcity  in  one  place  and  congestion  in  another 
there  will  be  information  immediately  sent,  so  that  the  surplus  labour 
can  be  drafted  into  those  districts  where  labour  is  wanted.  For 
instance,  in  the  harvest  seasons,  with  changeable  weather,  it  is  quite 
a  common  occurrence  for  the  crops  to  be  seriously  damaged  for  want 
of  labourers,  while  at  the  same  time  there  will  be  thousands  wandering 
about  in  the  big  towns  and  cities  seeking  work,  but  finding  no  one  to 
hire  them.  Extend  this  system  all  over  the  world,  and  make  it  not 
only  applicable  to  the  transfer  of  workers  between  the  towns  and  the 
provinces,  but  between  Country  and  Country,  and  it  is  impossible  to 
exaggerate  the  enormous  advantages  which  would  result.  The  officer 
in  charge  of  our  experimental  Labour  Bureau  sends  me  the  following 
notes  as  to  what  has  already  been  done  through  the  agency  of  the 
Upper  Thames  Street  office  : — 

SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL   REFORM   WING. 


LA150R    BUREAU. 
Bureau  opened  June  i6tli,  1890.     The  following  are  particulars  of  transactions 
up  to  September  26tli,  1890  : — 


Applications  for  employment — Men 

Women 


2462 
208 


-riii 


^!^ll 


2670 


Applications  from  Employers  for  Men 

„  „  Women ... 


128 
59 


187 


In 
ir 
in 


Sent  to  Work— Men  ... 
t,  Women 


*•«  ••*  ••■ 

•  ••  •■•  ••• 


Permanent  Situations 

Temporary  Employment,   viz:  —  Boardmen, 
Cleaners,  &.c.,  &c.  

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• >•       • •• 


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Mf.  'II 


i 


Section  4.— THE  HOUSEHOLD  SALVAGE  BRIGADE. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  moment  you  begin  to  find  work  for  the  un- 
employed labour  of  the  community,  no  matter  what  you  do  by  way 
of  the  registration  and  bringing  together  of  those  who  want  work 
and  those  who  want  workers,  there  will  still  remain  a  vast  residuum 
of  unemployed,  and  it  will  be  the  duty  of  those  who  undertake  to 
deal  with  the  question  to  devise  means  for  securing  them  employ- 
ment. Many  things  are  possible  when  there  is  a  directing  in- 
telligence at  headquarters  and  discipline  in  the  rank  and  file,  which 
would  be  utterly  impossible  when  everyone  is  left  to  go  where  he 
pleases,  when  ten  men  are  running  for  one  man's  job,  and  when  no 
one  can  be  depended  upon  to  be  in  the  way  at  the  time  he  is 
wanted.  When  my  Sciieme  is  carried  out,  there  will  be  in  every 
populous  centre  a  Captain  of  Industry,  an  Officer  specially  charged 
with  the  regimentation  of  unorganised  labour,  who  would  be  con- 
tinually on  the  alert,  thinking  how  best  to  utilise  the  waste  human 
material  in  his  district.  It  is  contrary  to  all  previous  experience  to 
suppose  that  the  addition  of  so  much  trained  intelligence  will  not 
operate  beneficially  in  securing  the  disposal  of  a  commodity  which  is 
at  present  a  drug  in  the  market. 

Robertson,  of  Brighton,  used  frequently  to  remark  that  every 
truth  was  built  up  of  two  apparent  contradictory  propositions.  In 
the  same  way  I  may  say  that  the  solution  of  every  social  difficulty 
is  to  be  found  in  the  discovery  of  two  corresponding  difficulties.  It 
is  like  the  puzzle  maps  of  children.  When  you  are  putting  one 
together,  you  suddenly  come  upon  some  awkward  piece  that  will  not 
fit  in  anywhere,  but  you  do  not  in  disgust  and  despair  break  your 
piece  into  fragments  or  throw  it  away.  On  the  contrary,  you  keep 
it  by  you,  knowing  that  before  long  you  will  discover  a  number  of 
otiier  pieces  which  it  will  be  impossible  to  fit  in  until  you  fix  your 
unmanageable,  unshapely  piece  in  the  centre.     Now,  in  the  work  of 


I  .' 


WANTED,    A    NERVOUS    SYSTEM    FOR    SOCIETY. 


115 


piecing  together  the  iVagments  which  Me  scaltcicd  arouml  the  base 
of  our  social  system  we  must  not  despair  because  we  have  in  the 
unorganised,  untrained  hibourers  that  winch  seeins  hopelessly  out 
of  fit  with  cveryli)ing  around.  There  must  be  something  correspond- 
ing to  it  which  is  e(|ually  useless  until  he  can  be  brought  to  bear 
upon  it.  In  other  words,  having  got  one  difficulty  in  the  case  of  the 
Out-of-Works,  we  must  cast  about  to  find  another  difficulty  to  pair  off 
against  it,  and  then  out  of  two  difiiculties  will  arise  the  solution  of 
the  problem. 

Wc  shall  not  have  far  to  seek  before  we  discover  in  every  town 
and  in  every  country  the  corresponding  element  to  our  unemployed 
labourer.  We  have  waste  labour  on  the  one  hand  ;  we  have  waste 
commodities  on  the  other.  About  waste  land  I  shall  speak  in  the 
next  chapter  ;  I  am  concerned  now  solely  with  waste  commodities. 
Herein  we  have  a  means  of  immediately  employing  a  large  nunil)er 
of  men  under  conditions  which  will  enable  us  to  permanently  provide 
for  many  of  those  whose  hard  lot  we  are  now  considering. 

I  propose  to  establish  in  ever}'  large  town  what  I  may  call  "  A 
Household  Salvage  Brigade,"  a  civil  force  of  organised  collectors, 
who  will  patrol  the  whole  town  as  regularly  as  the  policeman,  who 
will  have  their  appointed  beats,  and  each  of  whom  will  be  entrusted 
with  the  task  of  collecting  the  waste  of  the  houses  in  their  circuit. 
In  small  towns  and  villages  this  is  already  done,  and  it  will  be 
noticed  that  most  of  the  suggestions  which  I  have  put  forth  in  this 
book  are  based  upon  the  central  principle,  which  is  that  of  restoring 
to  the  over-grown,  and,  therefore,  uninformed  masses  of  population 
in  our  towns  the  same  intelligence  and  co-operation  as  to  the  mutual 
wants  of  each  and  all,  that  prevails  in  your  small  town  or  village. 
The  latter  is  the  manageable  unit,  because  its  dimensions  and  its 
needs  have  not  out-grown  the  range  of  the  individual  intelligence  j 
and  ability  of  those  who  dwell  therein.  Our  troubles  in  large 
towns  arise  chiefly  from  the  fact  that  the  massing  of  population 
h.'s  caused  the  physical  bulk  of  Society  to  outgrow  its  intelligence. 
It  is  as  if  a  human  being  had  suddenly  developed  fresh  limbs  which 
were  not  connected  by  any  nervous  system  with  the  gray  matter  of 
his  brain.  Such  a  thing  is  impossible  in  the  human  being,  but, 
unfortunately,  it  is  only  too  possible  in  human  society.  In  the 
human  body  no  member  can  suffer  without  an  instantaneous  tele- 
gram being  despatched,  as  it  were,  to  the  seat  of  intelligence  ;  the 
foot  or  the  finger  cries  out  when  it  suffers,  and  the  whole  body 


^'l:i|. 


'  i'i 


II   '     ! 

•I  i 


S    \  f 


116 


THE    HOUSEHOLD    SALVAGE    BRIGADE. 


sufTcrs  with  it.  So,  in  a  small  community,  every  one,  rich  and  poor, 
is  more  or  less  cognizant  of  the  sufferings  of  the  community.  In  a 
large  town,  where  people  have  ceased  to  be  neighhourly,  there  is 
only  a  congested  mass  of  jiopulation  settled  down  on  a  certain  small 
area  without  any  human  tins  connecting  them  together.  Here, 
it  is  perfectly  jiossihlc,  and  it  fre(|uently  happens,  that  men 
actually  die  of  starvation  within  a  few  doors  of  those  who, 
if  they  had  been  informed  of  the  actual  condition  of  the 
suflcrcr  tiiat  lay  within  carsliot  of  their  comfortable  drawing- 
rooms,  would  have  been  ca;;cr  to  minister  the  needed  relief.  What 
we  have  to  do,  therefore,  is  to  grow  a  new  nervous  system  for  the 
body  politic,  to  create  a  swift,  almost  automatic,  means  of  communi- 
cation between  the  community  as  a  whole  and  the  meanest  of  its 
members,  so  as  to  restore  to  the  city  what  the  village  possesses. 

I  do  not  say  that  the  plan  which  I  have  suggested  is  the  only 
plan  or  the  best  plan  conceivable.  All  that  I  claim  for  it  is  that  it 
is  the  only  plan  which  I  can  conceive  as  practicable  at  the  present 
moment,  and  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  holds  the  field  alone,  for  no 
one,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover,  even  proposes  to  reconsti- 
tute the  connection  between  what  I  have  called  the  gray  matter  of 
the  brain  of  the  municipal  community  and  all  the  individual  units 
which  make  up  the  body  politic. 

Carrying  out  the  same  idea  I  come  to  the  problem  of  the  waste 
commodities  of  the  towns,  and  we  will  take  this  as  an  earnest  of  the 
working  out  of  the  general  principle.  In  the  villages  there  is  very 
little  waste.  The  sewage  is  applied  directly  to  the  land,  and  so 
becomes  a  source  of  wealth  instead  of  being  emptied  into  great 
subterranean  reservoirs,  to  generate  poisonous  gases,  which  by  a 
most  ingenious  arrangement,  are  then  poured  forth  into  the 
very  heart  of  our  dwellings,  as  is  the  case  in  the  great  cities. 
Neither  is  there  any  wasce  of  broken  victuals.  The  villager 
has  his  pig  or  his  poultry,  or  if  he  has  not  a  pig  his 
neighbour  has  one,  and  the  collection  of  broken  victuals  is  con- 
ducted as  regularly  as  the  delivery  of  the  post.  And  as  it  is  with 
broken  victuals,  so  it  is  with  rags  and  bones,  and  old  iron,  and  all 
the  debris  of  a  household.  When  I  was  a  boy  one  of  the  most 
familiar  figures  in  the  streets  of  a  country  town  was  the  man,  who, 
with  his  small  hand-barrow  or  donkey-cart,  made  a  regular  patrol 
through  all  the  streets  once  a  w^eck,  collecting  rags,  bones,  and  all 
other  waste   materials,    buying  the  same  from   the  juveniles  whO 


HOW    TO    DEAL    WITH    LONDON. 


117 


very 
nd  so 
great 
by  a 

the 
:ities. 
lager 

his 

con- 

with 

id  all 

[most 

Iwho, 

patrol 

^dall 

wht) 


collected  them  in  specie,   not  of  ller  Majesty's  current   coin,  but  of 

common  sweetmeats,  known  as  "  ciaggum  "  or  *'  taffy."     Wiien  the 

tootling  of  his  familiar  horn    was  heard   the  children    would  bring 

out  their  stores,   and   trade  as  best  they   cculH   with  the  itinerant 

merchant,  with  the  result  that  the  closets  which  in  our  towns  ro-day 

have  become  the   receptacles  of  all   kinds  of  disused  lumber  were 

kept  then  swept  and  garnished.     Now,  what  I  want  to  know  is  why 

can  we  not  establish  on   a  scale  commensurate  with  our  extended 

needs  the  rag-and-bone  industry  in  all  our  great  towns  ?    That  there  is 

sufficient  to  pay  for  the  collection  is,  I  think,  indisputable.     If  it  paid 

in  a  small  North-country  town  or  Midland  village,  why  would  it  not 

pay  much  better  in  an  area  where  the  houses  stand  more  closely 

together,  and  where  luxurious  living  and  thriftless  habits  have  so 

increased  that  there   must  be  proportionately  far  more  breakage, 

more  waste,  and,  therefore,  more  collectable  matter  than  in  the  rural 

districts  ?     In  looking  ovtr  the  waste  of  London  it  has  occurred  to 

me  that  in  the  debris  of  our  households  there  is  sufficient  food,  it 

utiHsed,  to  feed  many  of  the  starving  poor,  and  to  employ  some 

thousands  of  them  in  its  collection,  and,  in  addition,  largely  to  assist 

the  general  scheme. 

What  I  propose  would  be  to  go  to  work  on  something  like  the 
following  plan  : — 

London  would  be  divided  into  districts,  beginning  with  that  port- 
tion  of  it  most  likely  to  furnish  the  largest  supplies  of  what  would  be 
worth  collection.  Two  men,  or  a  man  and  a  boy,  would  be  told  oft 
for  this  purpose  to  this  district. 

Households  would  be  requested  to  allow  a  receptacle  to  be  placed 
in  some  convenient  spot  in  which  the  servants  could  deposit  the 
waste  food,  and  a  sack  of  some  description  would  also  be  supplied 
for  the  paper,  rags,  &c. 

The  whole  would  be  collected,  say  one  or  twice  a  week,  or  more 
frequently,  according  to  the  sej  son  and  circumstances,  and  transferred 
to  depots  as  central  as  possible  to  the  different  districts. 

At  present  much  of  this  waste  is  thrown  into  the  dust-bin,  there 
to  fester  and  breed  disease.  Then  there  are  old  newspapers,  ragged 
books,  old  bottles,  tins,  canisters,  etc.  We  all  know  what  a  number 
of  articles  there  are  which  are  not  quite  bad  enough  to  be  thrown 
into  the  dust  heap,  and  yet  are  no  good  to  us.  We  put 
them  on  one  side,  hoping  that  something  may  turn  up,  and 
as  that  somethi'  g  very  seldom  does  turn  up,  there  they   remain. 


118 


THE    HOUSEHOLD    SALVAGE    BRIGADE. 


Crippled  inusiiTil  iiistrunicnts,  for  instance,  old  toys,  broken-down 
perambulators,  old  clothes,  all  the  things,  in  short,  for  which  we 
have  no  more  need,  and  for  which  there  is  no  market  within  our 
reach,  but  which  we  feel  it  would  he  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  destroy. 

When  I  get  my  I  louschold  Salvage  Brigade  properly  organised, 
beginning,  r.s  I  said,  in  some  district  where  we  should  be  likely  to 
meet  with  most  material,  our  uniformed  collectors  would  call  every 
other  day  or  twice  a  week  with  their  hand  barrow  or  pony  cart.  Aa 
these  men  would  be  under  strict  discipline,  and  numbered,  the  house- 
holder would  have  a  security  against  any  abuse  of  which  such 
regular  callers  might  otherwise  be  the  occasion. 

At  present  the  rag  and  bone  man  who  drives  a  more  or  less  pre- 
carious livelihood  by  intermittent  visits,  is  looked  upon  askance  by 
prudent  housewives.  They  fear  in  many  cases  he  takes  the  refuse 
in  order  to  have  the  opportunity  of  finding  something  which  may  be 
worth  while  *'  picking  up,"  and  should  he  be  impudent  or  negligent 
there  is  no  authority  to  whom  they  can  appeal  Under  our  Brigade, 
each  district  would  have  its  numbered  otlicer,  who  would  himself  be 
subordinate  \o  a  superior  officer,  to  whom  any  complaints  could  be 
made,  and  whose  duty  it  would  be  to  see  that  the  ofiicers  under  his 
command  punctually  performed  their  rounds  and  discharged  their 
duties  without  offence. 

Here  let  me  disclaim  any  intention  of  interfering  with  the  Little 
Sisters  of  the  Poor,  or  any  other  persons,  who  collect  the  broken 
victuals  of  hotels  and  other  establishments  for  charitable  purposes. 
My  object  is  not  to  poach  on  my  neighbour's  domains,  nor  shall  I 
ever  be  a  party  to  any  contentious  quarrels  for  the  control  of  this  or 
that  source  of  supply.  All  that  is  already  utilised  I  regard  as  outside 
my  sphere.  The  unoccupied  wilderness  pf  waste  is  a  wide  enough 
area  for  the  operations  of  our  Brigade.  But  it  will  be  found  in 
practice  that  there  are  no  Competing  agencies.  While  the  broken 
victuals  of  certain  large  hotels  are  regularly  collected,  the  things 
before  enumerated,  and  a  number  of  others,  are  untouched  because  not 
sought  after. 

Of  the  immense  extent  to  which  Food  is  wasted  few  people  have 
any  notion  except  those  who  have  made  actual  experiments.  Some 
years  ago,  Lady  Wolseley  established  a  system  of  collection  from 
house  to  house  in  Mayfair,  in  order  to  secure  materials  for  a 
charitable  kitchen  which,  in  concert  with  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts,  she 
had  started  at  Westminster.     The  amount  of  the  food  which  she 


yf'-i-  ■! 


WASTE  FOOD  AND  OLD  CLOTHES. 


119 


Ihave 
some 
Ifrom 
Ir  a 
I,  she 
she 


gathered  was  cnorim»us.  Suinctimcs  legs  of  mutton  from  which  onlji 
one  or  two  slices  had  been  cut  were  thrown  into  the  tub,  where  they 
waited  for  the  arrival  of  the  cArt  on  its  rounds.  It  is  by  no  means 
an  excessive  estimate  to  assume  tliat  the  waste  of  the  kitchens  of 
the  West  End  would  provide  a  suflicient  sustenance  for  all  the  Out- 
of-Works  who  will  be  employed  in  our  labour  sheds  at  the 
industrial  centres.  All  that  it  needs  is  collection,  prompt,  systematic, 
by  disciplined  men  who  can  be  relied  upon  to  discharge  their  task 
with  punctuality  and  civility,  ami  whose  failure  in  this  duty  can  be 
directly  brought  to  the  attention  of  the  controlling  authority. 

Of  the  utilisation  of  much  of  the  food  which  is  to  be  so  collected  I 
shall  speak  hereafter,  when  I  come  to  describe  the  second  great 
division  of  my  scheme,  namely  the  Kami  Colony.  Much  of  the  food 
collected  by  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade  would  not  be  available 
for  human  consumption.  In  thi:.-.  the  greatest  care  would  be  exercised, 
and  the  remainder  would  be  dispatched,  if  possible,  by  barges  down 
the  river  to  the  Fai  m  Colony,  where  we  shall  meet  it  hereafter. 

But  food  is  on! ,  one  of  the  materials  which  wc  should  handle. 
At  our  Whitechapel  Factory  there  is  one  shoemaker  whom  we  picked 
off  the  streets  destitute  and  miserable.  He  is  now  saved,  and 
happy,  and  cobbles  away  at  the  shoe  leather  of  his  mates.  That 
shoemaker,  I  foresee,  is  but  the  pioneer  of  a  whole  army  of  shoe- 
makers constantly  at  work  in  repairing  the  cast-oti'  boots  and  shoos 
of  London.  Already  in  sonic  provincial  towns  a  great  business  is 
done  by  the  conversion  of  old  shoes  into  new.  They  call  the  men 
so  employed  translators.  Boots  and  shoes,  as  every  wearer  of 
them  knows,  do  not  go  to  pieces  all  at  once  or  in  all  parts  at  once. 
The  sole  often  wears  out  utterly,  while  the  upper  leather  is  quite 
good,  or  the  upper  leather  bursts  while  the  sole  remains  practically 
in  a  salvable  condition  ;  but  your  individual  pair  of  shoes  and  boots 
are  no  good  to  you  when  any  section  of  them  is  hopelessly  gone  to 
the  bad.  But  give  our  trained  artist  in  leather  and  his  army  of 
assistants  a  couple  of  thousand  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes,  and  it  will 
go  ill  with  him  if  out  of  the  couple  of  thousand  pairs  of  wrecks  he 
cannot  construct  five  hundred  pairs,  which,  if  not  quite  good,  will 
be  immeasurably  better  than  the  apologies  for  boots  which  cover 
the  feet  of  many  a  poor  tramp,  to  say  nothing  of  the  thousands  of 
poor  children  who  are  at  the  present  moment  attending  our  public 
schools.  In  some  towns  they  have  already  established  a  Boot  and 
Shoe  Fund  in  order  to  provide  the  little  ones  who  come  to  school 


Nil  'il 


.    "^^tU-.tik.KV.... 


120 


THE    HOUSEHOLD    SALVAGE    BRIGADE. 


V 

i; 


.* 


!l'!?; 


with  shoes  warranted  not  to  let  in  water  between  the  school  house 
and  home.  When  you  remember  the  43,(X)0  children  who  are 
reported  by  the  School  Board  to  attend  the  schools  of  London  alone 
unfed  and  starving,  do  you  not  think  there  are  many  thousands  to 
whom  we  could  easily  dispose,  with  advantage,  the  resurrected  shoes 
of  our  Boot  Factory  ? 

This,  however,  is  only  one  branch  of  industry.  Take  old 
umbrellas.  We  all  know  the  itinerant  umbrella  mender,  whose 
appearance  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  farmhouse  leads  the  good 
wife  to  look  after  her  poultry  and  to  see  well  to  it  that  the  watch- 
dog is  on  the  premises.  But  that  gentleman  is  almost  the  only 
agency  by  which  old  umbrellas  can  be  rescued  from  the  dust  heap. 
Side  by  side  with  our  Boot  Factory  we  shall  have  a  great  umbrella 
works.  The  ironwork  of  one  umbrella  '/ill  be  fitted  to  the  stick  of 
another,  aud  even  from  those  that  a:  c  too  hopelessly  gone  for  any 
further  use  as  umbrellas  we  shall  find  plenty  of  use  for  their  steels 
and  whalebone. 

So  I  might  go  on.  Bottles  are  a  fertile  source  of  minor  domestic 
worry.  When  you  buy  a  bottle  you  have  to  pay  a  penny  for  it ; 
but  when  you  have  emptied  it  you  cannot  get  a  penny  back ;  no,  nor 
even  a  farthing.  You  throw  your  cmpt}'  bottle  either  into  the  dust 
heap,  or  let  it  lie  about.  But  if  wc  could  collect  all  the  waste  bottles 
of  London  e'  ery  day,  it  would  go  hardly  with  us  if  we  could  not 
turn  rx  very  pretty  penny  by  washing  them,  sorting  them,  and  send- 
ing th«>i  :  out  on  a  new  lease  of  lifo.  The  washing  of  old  bottles 
alone  ^vill  keep  a  considerable  number  of  people  going. 

I  can  imagine  the  objection  which  will  be  raised  by  some  short- 
sighted people,  that  by  giving  the  old,  eccond-hand  material  a  new 
lease  of  iife  it  will  be  said  that  we  shall  diminish  the  demand  for 
new  material,  and  so  curtail  work  and  wages  at  one  end  while  we 
are  endeavouring  to  piece  on  something  at  the  other.  This  objec- 
tion reminds  me  of  a  remark  of  a  North  Country  pilot  who,  when 
speaking  of  the  dulness  in  the  shipbuilding  industry,  said  that 
nothing  would  do  any  good  but  a  series  of  heavy  storms,  which 
would  send  a  goodly  number  of  ocean-going  steamers  to  the  bottom, 
to  replace  which,  this  political  economist  thought,  the  yards  would 
once  more  be  filled  with  orders.  This,  however,  is  not  the  way  in 
which  work  is  supplied.  Economy  is  a  great  auxiliary  to  trade, 
inasmuch  as  the  money  saved  is  expended  on  other  products  of 
industry. 


i     ' 


TIN    TOYS    FOR    THE    MILLION. 


121 


There  is  one  material  that  is  continually  increasing  in  quantity, 
which  is  the  despair  of  the  life  of  the  householder  and  of  the  Local 
Sanitary  Authority.  I  refer  to  the  tin'-  in  which  provisions  are 
supplied.  Isowadays  everything  comes  to  us  in  tins.  We  have 
coffee  tins,  meat  tins,  salmon  tins,  and  tins  ad  nauseam.  Tin  is 
becoming  more  and  more  the  universal  envelope  of  the  rations  of 
man.  But  when  you  have  extracted  the  contents  of  the  tin  what 
can  you  do  with  it?  Huge  m-untains  of  empty  tins  lie  about  every 
dustyard,  for  as  yet  no  man  has  discovered  a  means  of  utilising  them 
when  in  great  masses.  Their  market  price  is  about  four  or  five 
shillings  a  ton,  but  they  are  so  light  that  it  would  take  half  a  dozen 
trucks  to  hold  a  ton.  They  formerly  burnt  them  for  the  sake  of  the 
solder,  but  now,  by  a  new  process,  they  are  jointed  without  solder. 
The  problem  of  the  utilisation  of  the  tins  is  one  to  which  we  would 
have  to  addiess  ourselves,  and  I  am  by  no  means  desponding  as  to 
the  result. 

I  see  in  the  old  tins  of  London  at  least  one  means  of  establishing 
an  industry  which  is  at  present  almost  monopolised  by  our  neigh- 
bours. Most  of  the  toys  which  are  sold  in  France  on  New  Year's 
Day  are  almost  entirely  made  of  sardine  tins  collected  in  the  French 
capital.  Tlie  toy  market  of  England  is  at  present  far  from  being 
overstocked,  for  there  are  muh.itudes  of  children  who  have  no  toys 
worth  speaking  of  with  which  to  amuse  themselves.  In  these  empty 
tins  I  rce  a  means  of  employing  a  large  number  of  people  in  turning 
out  cheap  toys  which  will  add  a  new  joy  to  the  households  of  the 
poor — the  poor  to  whom  every  farthing  is  important,  not  the  rich — 
the  rich  can  always  get  toys — but  the  t'Mldren  of  the  poor,  who  live 
in  one  room  and  have  nothing  to  look  oi  t  upon  but  the  slum  or  the 
street.  These  desolate  little  things  nee^.  our  toys,  and  if  suppiied 
cheap  enough  they  will  take  them  in  su  .ificicnt  quantities  to  make  it 
vrortli  while  to  manufacture  them. 

A  whole  book  might  be  written  concerning  the  utilisation  of  the 
waste  of  London.  But  I  am  not  going  to  write  one.  I  hope  before 
long  to  do  something  much  better  than  write  a  book,  namely,  to 
establish  an  organisation  to  utilise  the  waste,  and  then  if  I  describe 
what  is  being  done  it  will  be  much  better  than  by  now  explaining 
what  I  propose  to  do.  But  there  is  one  more  waste  material  to 
which  it  is  necessary  to  allude.  I  refer  to  old  newspapers  and 
magazines,  and  books.  Newspapers  accumulate  in  our  houses  until 
we  sometimes  burn  them  ii.  sheer  disgust.    Magazines  and  old  books 


,!| 


'#! 


ii  'I 


I  ;' 


:i.  '.\, 


!'! 


122 


THE    HOUSEHOLD    :ALVAGE    BRIGADE. 


i^;  l-|i 


1 

if 

,1 


lumbei-  our  shelves  until  we  hardly  know  where  to  turn  to  put  a 
new  volume.  My  Brigade  will  relieve  the  householder  from  these 
difficulties,  and  thereby  become  a  great  distributing  agency  of  cheap 
literature.  After  the  magazine  has  done  its  duty  in  the  middle 
class  household  it  can  be  passed  on  to  the  reading-rooms,  work- 
houses, and  hospitals.  Every  publication  issued  from  the  Press 
that  is  of  the  slightest  use  to  men  and  women  will,  by  our  Scheme, 
acquire  a  double  share  of  usefulness.  It  will  be  read  first  by  its 
owner,  and  then  by  many  people  who  would  never  otherwise  see  it. 

We  shall  establish  an  immense  second-hand  book  shop.  All  the 
best  books  that  come  into  our  hands  will  be  exposed  for  sale,  not 
merely  at  our  central  depots,  but  on  t?ie  barrows  of  our  peripatetic 
colporteurs,  who  will  go  from  street  to  street  with  literature  which, 
I  trust,  will  be  somewhat  superior  to  the  ordinary  pabulum  supplied 
to  the  poor.  After  we  have  sold  all  we  could,  and  given  away  all 
chat  is  needed  to  public  institutions,  the  remainder  will  be  carried 
down  to  our  great  Paper  Mill,  of  which  we  shall  speak  later,  in 
connection  with  our  Farm  Colony. 

The  Household  Salvage  Brigade  will  constitute  an  agency  capable 
of  being  utilised  to  any  extent  for  the  distribution  of  parcels 
newspapers,  &c.  When  once  you  have  your  reliable  man  who  will 
call  at  every  house  wiih  the  regularity  of  a  postman,  and  go  his  beat 
with  the  punctuality  of  a  policeman,  you  can  do  great  things  with 
him.  I  do  not  need  to  elaborate  this  point.  It  will  be  a  universal 
Corps  of  Commissionaires,  created  for  the  service  of  the  public  and 
in  the  interests  of  the  poor,  which  will  bring  us  into  direct  relations 
with  every  family  in  London,  and  will  therefore  constitute  an 
unequalled  medium  for  the  distribution  of  advertisements  and  the 
collection  of  information. 

It  does  not  require  a  very  fertile  imagination  to  see  that  when 
5,uch  a  house-to-house  visitation  is  regularly  established,  it  will 
develop  in  all  directions ;  and  working,  as  it  would,  in  connection 
with  our  Anti-sweating  Shops  and  Industrial  Colony,  would  probably 
soon  become  the  medium  for  negotiating  sundry  household  repairs, 
from  a  broken  window  to  a  damaged  stocking.  If  a  porter  were 
wanted  to  move  furniture,  or  a  woman  wanted  to  do  baring,  or  some 
one  to  clean  windows  or  any  other  odd  job,  the  ubiquitous  Servant  of 
All  who  called  for  the  waste,  either  verbally  or  by  postcard,  would  re- 
ceive the  order,  and  whoever  was  wanted  would  popear  at  the  time 
desired  without  any  further  trouble  on  the  part  of  the  householder. 


; '  i 


THE    QUESTION    OF    COST. 


123 


One  word  as  to  the  cost.  There  are  five  hundred  thousand  houses 
'in  the  MetropoHtan  PoHce  district.  To  supply  every  house  with  a 
tub  and  a  sack  for  the  reception  of  waste  would  involve  an  initial  ex- 
penditure which  could  not  possibly  be  less  than  one  shilling  a  house. 
So  huge  is  London,  and  so  enormous  the  numbers  with  which  we  shall 
have  to  deal,  that  this  simple  preliminary  would  require  a  cdst  of 
;^2 5,000.  Of  course  I  do  not  propose  to  begin  on  anything  like  such 
a  vast  scale.  That  sum,  which  is  only  one  of  the  many  expenditures 
involved,  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  extent  of  the  operations  which 
the  Household  Salvage  Brigade  will  necessitate.  The  enterprise 
is  therefore  beyond  the  reach  of  any  but  a  great  and  powerful 
organisation,  commanding  capital  and  able  to  secure  loyalty, 
discipline,  and  willing  service. 


;i 


I  '-I 


f 

■ 

f! 

' 

r- 

■'' 

i 

"  1 

*, 

i; 

':  i: 

II 

Hi 
II 


l-l'l^ 


\    iv! 


I- 'lit 


■fli 


:!MI 


CHAPTER  HI. 

TO   THE  COUNTRY!— THE   FARM   COLONY. 

I  leave  on  one  side  for  a  moment  various  features  of  the  operdtions 
which  will  be  indispensable  but  subsidiary  to  the  City  Colony,  such 
as  the  Rescue  Homes  for  Lost  Women,  the  Retreats  for  Inebriates,  the 
Homes  for  Discharged  Prisoners,  the  Enquiry  Office  for  the  Discovery 
of  Lost  Friends  and  Relatives,  and  the  Advice  Bureau,  which  will,  in 
time,  become  an  institution  that  will  be  invaluable  as  a  poor  man's 
Tribune,  All  these  and  other  suggestions  for  saving  the  lost  and 
helping  the  poor,  although  they  form  essential  elements  of  the  City 
Colony,  will  be  better  dealt  with  after  I  have  explained  the  relation 
which  the  Farm  Colony  will  occupy  to  the  City  Colony,  and  set  forth 
the  way  in  which  the  former  will  act  as  a  feeder  to  the  Colony  Over 
Sea. 

I  have  already  described  how  I  propose  to  deal,  in  the  first  case, 
with  the  mass  of  surplus  labour  which  will  infallibly  accumulate  on 
our  hands  as  soon  as  the  Shelters  are  more  extensively  established 
and  in  good  working  order.  But  I  fully  recognise  that  when  all  has 
been  done  that  can  be  done  in  the  direction  of  disposing  of  the 
unhired  men  and  women  of  the  town,  there  will  still  remain  many 
whom  you  can  neither  employ  in  the  Household  Salvage 
Brigade,  nor  for  whom  employers,  be  they  registered  never  so  care- 
fully, can  be  found.  What,  then,  must  be  done  with  them  ?  The 
answer  to  that  question  seems  to  me  obvious.  They  must  go  upon 
the  land ! 

The  land  is  the  source  of  all  food ;  only  by  the  application  of 
labour  can  the  land  be  made  fully  productive.  There  is  any  amount 
of  waste  land  in  the  world,  not  far  away  in  distant  Continents,  next 
door  to  the  North  Pole,  but  here  at  our  very  doors.  Have  you  ever 
calculated,  for  instance,  the  square  miles  of  unused  land  which  fringe 
the  sides  of  all  our  railroads  ?     No  doubt  some  embankments  are  ot 


THE    LAND    IS    WORTH    CULTIVATING. 


125 


..I'l! 


ot 


material  tliat  would  baffle  the  cultivaling  skill  of  a  Chinese  or  the 
careful  husbandry  of  a  Swiss  mountaineer;  but  these  are  exceptions. 
When  other  people  talk  of  reclaiming  Salisbury  Plain,  or  of 
cultivating  the  bare  moorlands  of  the  bleak  North,  I  think  of  the 
hundreds  of  square  miles  of  land  that  lie  in  long  rihb'-"c  on  the  side 
of  each  of  our  railways,  upon  which,  witliout  any  cost  for  cartage, 
innumerable  tons  of  City  manure  c?ulcl  be  sliot  down,  and  the  crops 
of  which  could  be  carried  at  once  to  the  nearest  market  without  any 
but  the  initial  cost  of  heaping  into  convenient  trucks.  These 
railway  embankments  constitute  a  vast  estate,  capable  of  growing 
fruit  enough  to  supply  all  the  jam  that  Crosse  and  Blackwell  ever 
boiled.  In  almost  every  county  in  England  are  vacant  farms,  and, 
in  still  greater  numbers,  farms  but  a  quarter  cultivated,  which  only 
need  the  application  of  an  industrious  population  working  with  due 
incentive  to  produce  twice,  thrice,  and  four  times  as  much  as  thej'^ 
yield  to-day. 

I  am  aware  that  there  are  few  subjects  upon  which  there  are 
such  fierce  controversies  as  the  possibilities  of  making  a  liveli- 
hood out  of  small  holdings,  but  Irish  cottiers  do  it,  and 
in  regions  infinitely  worse  adapted  for  the  purpose  than 
our  Essex  corn  lands,  and  possessing  none  of  tiie  advantages  which 
civilization  and  co-operation  place  at  the  command  of  an  intelligently 
directed  body  of  husbandmen.  Talk  about  the  land  not  being  worth 
cultivating  !  Go  to  the  Swiss  Valleys  and  examine  for  yourself  the 
miserable  patches  of  land,  hewed  out  as  it  were  from  the  heart  of  the 
granite  moimtains,  where  the  cottager  gro^  's  his  crops  and  makes  a 
livelihood.  No  doubt  he  has  his  Alp,  where  his  cows  pasture  in 
summer-time,  and  his  other  occupations  which  enablehim  to  supplement 
the  scanty  yield  of  his  farm  garden  among  the  crags  ;  but  if  it  pays 
the  Swiss  mountaineer  in  the  midst  of  the  eternal  snows,  far  removed 
lYom  any  market,  to  cultivate  such  miserable  itoil  in  the  brief  summer 
of  the  high  Alps,  it  is  ii;.p(-.v.biuic  ;u  bcilcvc  ihat  Englishmen,  working 
on  English  soil,  close  to  our  markets  and  enjoying  all  the  advantages 
of  co-operation,  cannot  earn  their  daily  bread  by  their  daily  toil 
The  soil  of  England  is  not  unkindly,  and  although  much  is  saui 
against  our  climate,  it  is,  as  Mr.  Russell  Lowell  observes,  after  a 
lengthened  experience  of  many  countries  and  many  climes,  "  the  be-! 
climate  in  the  whole  world  for  the  labouring  man  "  There  are  more 
days  in  the  English  year  on  which  a  man  can  work  out  of 
doors    with    a    spade    with     comparative    comfort    than    in    any 


■M 


i  ;■' 


N,.;, 


'••f:  'l| 


126 


TO    THE    COUNTRY  l-THE    FARM    COLONY. 


V 


■» 

\ 

■# 

If 

<)• 
,1 


I  ■:    '.'■■'     i' 


Other  country  under  heaven.  1  do  not  say  that  men  will  make  a 
fortune  out  of  the  land,  nor  do  '  pretend  that  we  can,  under  the  grey 
English  skies,  hope  ever  to  vie  with  llic  productiveness  of  the  Jersey 
farms  ;  but  I  am  prepared  to  maintain  against  all  comers  that  it  is 
possible  for  an  industrious  man  to  grow  his  rations,  provided  he  is 
given  a  spade  with  which  to  dig  and  land  to  dig  in.  Especially 
will  this  be  the  case  with  intelligent  direction  and  the  advantages  of 
co-operation. 

Is  it  not  a  reasonable  supposition  ?  It  always  seems  to  me  a 
strange  thing  that  men  t;liouId  insist  that  you  must  first  transport 
your  labourer  thousands  of  miles  to  a  desolate,  bleak  country  in 
order  to  set  him  to  work  to  extract  a  livelihood  from  the  soil  when 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  acres  lie  only  half  tilled  at  home  or  not 
tilled  at  all.  Is  it  reasonable  to  think  that  you  can  only  begin  to 
make  a  living  out  of  land  when  it  lies  several  thousand  miles  from 
the  nearest  market,  and  thousands  of  miles  from  the  place  where  the 
labourer  has  to  buy  his  tools  and  procure  all  the  necessaries  of  life 
which  are  not  grown  on  the  spot  ?  If  a  man  can  make  squatting 
pay  on  Jie  prairies  or  in  Australia,  where  every  quarter  of  grain 
which  he  produces  has  to  be  dragged  by  locomotives  across  the 
railways  of  the  continent,  and  then  carried  by  steamers  across  the 
wide  ocean,  can  he  not  equally  make  the  operation  at  least  sufficiently 
profitable  to  keep  himself  alive  if  you  plant  him  with  the  same  soil 
within  an  hour  by  rail  of  the  greatest  markets  in  the  world? 

The  answer  to  this  is,  that  you  cannot  give  your  man  as  much 
soil  as  he  has  on  the  prairies  or  in  the  Canadian  lumber  lands. 
This,  no  doubt,  is  true,  but  the  squatter  who  settles  in  the  Canadian 
backwoods  does  not  clear  his  land  all  at  once.  He  lives  on  a  small 
portion  of  it,  and  goes  on  digging  and  delving  little  by  little,  until, 
after  many  years  of  Herculean  labour,  he  hews  out  for  himself,  and 
his  children  after  hin,  a  freehold  estate.  Freehold  estates,  I  admit, 
are  not  to  be  had  for  the  picking  up  on  English  soil,  but  if  a  man 
will  but  work  in  England  as  they  work  in  Canada  or  in  Australia, 
he  will  find  as  little  difficulty  in  making  a  livelihood  here  as  there. 

I  may  be  wrong,  but  when  I  travel  abroad  and  see  the  desperate 
struggle  on  the  part  of  peasant  proprietors  and  the  small  holders  in 
mountainous  districts  for  an  additional  patcli  of  soil,  the  idea  ot 
cultivating  which  would  make  our  agricultural  labourers  turn  up  their 
noses  in  speechless  contempt,  I  cannot  but  think  that  our  English 
soil  could  carry  a  far  greater  number  of  souls  to  the  acre  than  that 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


127 


which  it  bears  at  present.  Suppo.se,  for  instance,  that  Essex  were 
suddenly  to  find  itself  unmoored  from  its  English  anchorage  and 
towed  across  the  Channel  to  Normandy,  or,  not  to  imagine  miracles, 
suppose  that  an  Armada  of  Chinese  were  to  make  a  descent  on  the 
Isle  of  Thanet,  as  did  the  sea-kings,  Hengist  and  Horsa,  does  any- 
one imag'ne  for  a  moment  that  Kent,  fertile  and  cultivated  as  it  is, 
would  nfit  be  regarded  as  a  very  Garden  of  Eden  out  of  the  odd 
corners  of  which  our  yellow-skinned  invaders  would  contrive  to 
extract  sufficient  to  keep  themselves  in  sturdy  health  ?  I  only 
suggest  the  possibility  in  order  to  bring  out  clearly  the  fact  that  the 
difficulty  is  not  in  the  soil  nor  in  the  climate,  but  in  the  lack  of 
application  of  sufficient  labour  to  sufficient  land  in  the  truly 
scientific  way. 

•'  What  is  the  scientific  way  ?  "  I  shall  be  asked  impatiently.  I 
am  not  an  agriculturist ;  I  do  not  dogmatize.  I  have  read  much 
from  many  pens,  and  have  noted  the  experiences  of  many  colonies, 
and  I  have  learned  the  lesson  that  it  is  in  the  school  of  practical 
labour  that  the  most  valuable  knowledge  is  to  be  obtained. 
Nevertheless,  the  bulk  of  my  proposals  are  based  upon  the 
experience  of  many  who  have  devoted  their  lives  to  the  study  of 
the  subject,  and  have  been  endorsed  by  specialists  whose  experience 
gives  them  authority  to  speak  with  unquestioning  confidence. 


!!  !l 


"   r 


1        •ll 


-f._  - 


i 


i:r 


SlCTlON  I.— THE  FARM  PROPER. 

My  present  idea  is  to  take  an  estate  from  five  hundred  to  a 
thousand  acres  within  reasonable  distance  of  London.  It  should  be  of 
such  land  as  will  be  suitable  for  market  gardening,  while  having  some 
clay  on  it  for  brick-making  and  for  crops  requiring  a  heavier  soil. 
If  possible,  it  should  not  only  be  on  n  line  of  railway  which  is 
managed  by  intelligent  and  progressive  directors,  but  it  should  have 
access  to  the  sea  and  to  the  river.  It  should  be  freehold  land,  and 
it  shoi'lu  lie  at  some  considerable  distance  from  any  town  or  village. 
The  reason  for  the  latter  desideratum  is  obvious.  We  must  be  near 
London  for  the  sake  of  our  market  and  for  the  t  msmission  of  the 
commodities  collected  by  our  Ilout-ehold  .Salvage  Brigade,  but  it 
must  be  some  litt'e  distance  from  any  town  or  village  in  order 
that  the  Colony  m:  y  be  planted  clear  out  in  the  open  away  from  the 
public  house,  that  upas  tree  of  civilisation.  A  sine  qua  non  of  the 
new  Farm  Colony  is  that  no  intoxicating  liquors  wiil  be  permitted 
within  its  conPnes  on  any  pretext  whatever.  The  doctors  will  have 
to  prescribe  some  other  stimulant  than  alcohol  for  residents  in  this 
Colony.  But  it  will  be  little  use  excluding  alcohol  with  a  strong 
hand  and  by  cast-iron  regulations  if  the  Colonists  have  only  to  take 
a  short  walk  in  order  to  find  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  "  Red 
Lions,"  and  the  "  Blue  Dragons,"  and  the  "  George  the  Fourths," 
which  abound  in  every  country  town. 

Having  obtained  the  land  I  should  proceed  to  prepare  it  for  the 
Colonists.  This  is  an  operation  which  is  essentially  the  same  in  any 
country.  You  need  water  supply,  prr>visions  and  shelter.  All 
this  would  be  done  at  first  in  the  snnplest  possible  style.  Our 
pioneer  brigade,  carefully  selected  from  the  competent  Out-of- Works 
in  the  City  Colony,  would  be  sent  down  tc-  lay  out  the  -^state  an.l 
prepare  it  for  those  who  'vould  come  after.  And  here  let  me  say 
that  it  is  a  great  delusion  to  imagine  that  m  the  riffraff  and  waste  of 
the  labour  market  there  are  no  workmen  to  be  had  except  those  that 
are  worthless.  Worthless  under  ihe  present  oondition^j,  -xposed  to 
constant  temptations  to  intemperance  no  doubt  they  are,  but  some  of 
the  brightebt  men  in  London,  with  some  of  the  smartest  pairs  of 
hands,  and  .he  cleverest  brains,  are  at  the  present  moment  weltering 
helplessly  in  the  sludge  from  v  i.'ch  we  propose  to   rescue  them. 


i  V' 


! 


tN    PRAISE    OF   TOMMY    ATKINS. 


129 


s 


f 
If 


1^ 

I. 


I  am  not  speaking  without  book  in  this  matter.  Some  of  my  best 
Officers  to-day  have  been  even  such  as  they.  There  is  an  infinite 
potentiaHty  of  capacity  lying  latent  in  our  Provincial  Tap-rooms 
and  the  City  Gin  Palaces  if  you  can  but  get  them  soundly  saved, 
and  even  short  of  that,  if  you  can  place  them  in  conditions  where 
they  would  no  longer  be  liable  to  be  sucked  back  into  their  old 
disastrous  habits,  you  may  do  great  things  with  them. 

I  can  well  imagine  the  incredulous  laughter  which  will  greet  my 
proposal.  "What,"  it  will  be  said,  "do  you  think  that  you  can 
create  agricultural  pioneers  out  of  the  scum  of  Cockne;  "  -^i  ?  "  Let 
us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  ingredients  which  make  up  what  you 
call  "  the  scum  of  Cockneydom."  After  careful  examination  and 
close  cross-questioning  of  the  Out-of-Works,  whom  we  have  aire,  jy 
registered  at  our  Labour  Bureau,  we  find  that  at  least  sixty  per  cent, 
are  country  folk,  men,  women,  boys,  and  girls,  who  have  left  their 
homes  in  the  counties  to  come  up  to  town  in  the  hope  of  bettering 
themselves.  They  are  in  no  sense  of  the  word  Cockneys,  and  they 
represent  not  the  dregs  ot  the  country  but  rather  its  brighter  and 
more  adventurous  spirits  who  have  boldly  tried  to  make  their  way 
in  new  and  uncongenial  spheres  and  have  terribly  come  to  grief  Of 
thirty  cases,  selected  haphazard,  in  the  various  Shelters  during  the 
week  ending  July  5th,  1890,  twenty-two  were  country-born,  sixteen 
were  men  who  had  come  up  a  long  time  ago,  but  did  not  ever  seem 
to  have  settled  to  regular  employ,  and  four  were  old  military  men. 
Of  sixty  cases  examined  into  at  the  Bureau  and  Shelters  during  the 
fortn' jht  ending  August  2nd,  forty-two  were  country  people  ;  twenty- 
six  men  who  had  been  in  London  fDr  various  periods,  ranging  from 
six  months  to  four  years ;  nine  were  lads  under  eighteen,  who  had 
run  away  from  home  and  come  up  to  town ;  while  four  were 
ex-military.  Of  eighty-five  cases  of  dossers  who  were  spoken  to  at 
night  when  they  slept  in  the  streets,  sixty-three  were  country  people. 
A  very  small  proportion  of  the  genuine  homeless  Out-of-Works  are 
Londoners  bred  and  born. 

There  is  another  element  in  the  matter,  the  existence  of  which 
will  be  news  to  most  people,  and  that  is  the  large  proportion  of 
ex-military  men  who  are  among  the  helpless,  hopeless  destitute. 
Mr.  Arno!  i  White,  after  spending  many  months  in  the  streets  of 
London  interrogating  more  than  four  thousand  men  whom  he  found 
in  the  course  of  one  bleak  winter  sleeping  out  of  doors  like  animals 
returns  it  as  his  convection  that  at  least  20  per   cent,  are  Army 

I 


(.!■; 


I  1' 


\y 


13U 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


ilj!      ' 


Reserve  men.  Twenty  per  cent !  That  is  to  say  one  man  in  every 
live  with  whom  we  shall  have  to  deal  has  served  Her  Majesty  the 
Queen  under  the  colours.  This  is  the  resource  to  which  these  poor 
fellows  come  after  they  have  given  the  prime  of  their  lives  to  the 
service  of  their  country.  Although  this  may  be  largely  brought  about 
by  their  own  thriftless  and  evil  conduct,  it  is  a  scandal  and  dis- 
giace  which  may  well  make  the  cheek  of  the  patriot  tingle.  Still, 
I  see  in  it  a  great  resource.  A  man  who  has  been  in  the  Queen's 
Army  is  a  man  who  has  learnt  to  obey.  He  is  further  a  man 
who  has  been  taught  in  the  roughest  of  rough  schools  to  be  handy 
and  smart,  to  make  the  best  of  the  roughest  fare,  and  not  to  consider 
himself  a  martyr  if  he  is  sent  on  a  forlorn  hope.  I  often  say  if  we 
could  only  get  Christians  to  have  one-half  of  the  practical  devotion 
and  sense  of  duty  that  animates  even  the  commonest  Tommy  Atkins 
what  a  change  would  be  brought  about  in  the  world  ! 

Look  at  poor  Tommy  I  A  country  lad  who  gets  himself  into  some 
scrape,  runs  away  from  home,  finds  himself  sinking  lower  and  lower, 
with  no  hope  of  employment,  no  friends  to  advise  him,  and  no  one  to 
give  him  a  helping  hand.  In  sheer  despair  he  takes  the  Queen's 
siiilling  and  enters  the  ranks.  He  is  handed  over  to  an  inexorable 
drill  sergeant,  he  is  compelled  to  room  in  barracks  where  privacy 
is  unknown,  to  mix  with  men,  many  of  them  vicious,  few  of  them 
companions  whom  he  would  of  his  own  choice  select.  He  gets  his 
rations,  and  although  he  is  told  he  will  get  a  shilling  a  day,  there 
are  so  many  stoppages  that  he  often  does  not  finger  a  shiHing  a 
week.  He  is  drilled  and  worked  and  ordered  hither  and  thither  as 
if  he  were  a  machine,  all  of  which  he  takes  cheerfully,  without  even 
conaidering  that  there  is  any  hardship  in  his  lot,  plodding  on  in  a 
dull,  stolid  kind  of  way  for  his  Queen  and  his  country,  doing  his 
best,  also,  poor  chap,  to  be  proud  of  his  red  uniform,  and  to  cultivate 
his  self-respect  by  reflecting  that  he  is  one  of  the  defenders  of  h'o 
native  land,  one  of  the  heroes  upon  whose  courage  and  endurance 
depends  the  safety  of  the  British  realm. 

Some  fine  day  at  the  other  end  of  the  world  some  prancing 
pro-consul  finds  it  necessary  to  smash  one  of  the  man-slaying 
machines  that  loom  ominous  on  his  borders,  or  some  savage 
potentate  makes  an  incursion  into  territory  of  a  British  colony,  or 
some  fierce  outburst  of  Mahommedan  fanaticism  raises  up  a  Mahdi 
in  mid-Africa.  In  a  moment  Tommy  Atkins  is  marched  off  to  the 
troop-ship,    and    swept  across   the  seas,  heart-sick   and  sea-sick, 


THE    SETTLERS    ON    THE    FARM. 


131 


and  miserable  exceedingly,  to  fight  the  Queen's  enemies  in  foreign 
parts.     When  he  arrives  there  he  is  bundled  ashore,  brigaded  witli 
other  troops,  marched  to  the  front  through  the  blistering  glare  of  a 
tropical  sun  over  poisonous  marshes  in  wliich  his  comrades  sicken 
and  die,  until  at  last  he  is  drawn  up  in  square  to  receive  the  charge 
of  tens  of   thousands   of   ferocious  savages.     Far  away   from    all 
who  love  him  or  care  for  him,  foot-sore  and  travel  weary,  having 
eaten  perhaps  but  a  piece  of  dry  bread  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
he  must  stand  up  and  kill  or  be  killed.     Often  he  falls  beneath  the 
thrust  of  an  assegai  or  liie  slashing  1  roadsword  of   the  charging 
enemy.     Then,  after  the  fight  is  over  his  comrades  turn  up  the  sod 
where  he  lies,  bundle    his    poor  bones    into    the  shallow  pit,   and 
leave  him  without  even  a  cross  to  mark  his  solitary  grave.     Perhaps 
he   is  fortunate   and   escapes.     Yet  Tommy  goes   uncomplainingly 
through  all  these  hardships  and  privations,  does  not  think  himself 
a  martyr,  takes  no  fine  airs  about   what  he  has  done  and  suffered, 
and  shrinks  uncomplainingly  into  our  Shelters  and   our  Factories, 
only    asking    as    a    benediction     from     heaven    that    someone    will 
give  him  an   honest  job  of  work  to  do.     That  is  the  fate  of  Tommy 
Atkins.     If  in  our  churches  and  chapels'  as  much  as  one  single 
individual  were  to  bear  and  dare,  for  the  benefit  of  his  kind  and  the 
salvation   of  men,  what  a  hundred  thousand  Tommy  Atkins'  bear 
uncomplainingly,  taking  it  all  as  if  it  were  in  the  day's  work,  for  their 
rations   and  their  shilling  a  day   (with   stoppages),   think  you  we 
should   not  transform  the  whole  face  of  the  world  ?     Yea,  verily. 
We  find  but  very  little  of  such  devotion  ;  no,  not  in  Israel. 
•    I  look  forward  to  making  great  use  of  these  Army  Reserve  men. 
There  are  engineers  amongst  them  ;    there  are  artillery  men  and 
infantry  ;  there  are  cavalry  men,  who  know  what  a  horse  needs  to 
keep  him  in  good  health,  and  men  of  the  transport  department,  for 
whom   I   shall   find  work  enough   to  do  in  the  transference  of  the 
multitudinous  waste  of  London  from  our  town  Depots  to  the  outlying 
Farm.     This,  however,  is  a  digression,  by  the  way. 

After  having  got  the  Farm  into  some  kind  of  ship-shape,  we  should 
select  from  the  City  Colonies  all  those  who  were  likely  to  be 
successful  as  our  first  settlers.  These  would  consist  of  men  who 
had  been  working  so  many  weeks  or  days  in  the  Labour  Factory,  or 
had  been  under  observation  for  a  reasonable  time  at  the  Shelters 
or  in  the  Slums,  and  who  had  given  evidf^nce  of  their  willingness  to 
work,  their  amenity  to  discipline,  and  their  ambition   to  improve 


132 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


If  i 


,    -1' 


themselves.  On  arrival  at  the  Kann  they  woulil  be  installed  in  a 
barracks,  and  at  once  told  off  to  work.  In  winter  time  there  would 
be  draining,  and  road-making,  and  fencing,  and  many  other  forms  of 
industry  which  could  go  on  when  the  days  are  short  and  the  nights 
are  long.  In  Spring,  Summertime  and  Autumn,  some  would  be 
employed  on  the  land,  chiefly  in  spade  husbandry,  upon  what  is 
called  the  system  of  "  intensive  "  agriculture,  such  as  prevails  in 
the  suburbs  of  Paris,  where  the  market  gardeners  literally  create 
the  soil,  and  which  yields  much  greater  results  than  when  you 
merely  scratch  the  surface  with  a  plough. 

Our  Farm,  I  hope,  would  be  as  productive  as  a  great  market  garden 
There  would  be  a  Superintendent  on  the  Colony,  who  would  be 
a  practical  gardener,  familiar  with  the  best  methods  of  small 
agriculture,  and  everything  tliat  science  and  experience  shows  to  be 
needful  for  the  profitable  treatment  of  the  land.  Then  there  would 
be  various  other  forms  of  industry  continually  in  progress,  so  that 
employmer.c  could  be  furnished,  adapted  to  the  capacity  and  skill  of 
every  Colonist.  Where  farm  buildings  are  wanted,  the  Colonists  must 
erect  them  themselves.  If  they  want  glass  houses,  they  must  put 
them  up.  Everything  on  the  Estate  must  be  the  production  of  the 
Colonists.  Take,  for  instance,  the  building  of  cottages.  After  the 
first  detachment  has  settled  down  into  its  quarters  and  brought  the 
fields  somewhat  into  cultivation,  there  will  arise  a  demand  for 
houses.  These  houses  must  be  built,  and  the  bricks  made  by  the 
Colonists  themselves.  All  the  carpentering  and  the  joinery  will  be 
done  on  the  premises,  and  by  this  means  a  sustained  demand  for 
work  will  be  created.  Then  there  would  be  furniture,  clothing,  and 
a  great  many  other  wants,  the  supply  of  the  whole  of  which  would 
create  labour  which  the  Colonists  must  perform. 

For  a  long  time  to  come  the  Salvation  Army  will  be  able  to  con- 
sume all  the  vegetables  and  crops  which  the  Colonies  will  produce. 
That  is  one  advantage  of  being  connected  with  so  great  and  grow- 
iig  a  concern  ;  the  right  hand  will  help  the  left,  and  we  shall  be 
1  jle  to  do  many  things  which  those  who  devote  themselves  ex- 
clusively to  colonisation  would  find  it  impossible  to  accomplish. 
We  have  seen  the  large  quantities  of  provisions  which  are  required 
lo  supply  the  Food  Depots  in  their  present  dimensions,  and  with  the 
coming  extensions  the  consumption  will  be  enormously  augmented. 

On  this  Farm  I  propose  to  carry  on  every  description  of  "  little 
agriculture.^ 


|m 

k. 

'i]    i 

M  i 

A    TRAINING    SCHOOL    FOR    EMIGRANTS. 


133 


ex- 

lish. 
lired 
the 
kd. 
little 


I  have  not  yet  referred  to  the  female  side  of  our  operations,  but 
have  reserved  them  for  another  chapter.  It  is  necessary,  however, 
Id  bring  them  in  licrc  in  order  to  cxphnin  that  employment  will  be 
created  for  women  as  well  as  men.  Kruit  farming  affords  a  great 
opening  for  female  labour,  and  it  will  indeed  be  a  change  as 
from  Tophet  to  the  Garden  of  Kden  when  the  poor  lost  girls  on  the 
streets  of  London  exchange  the  pavements  of  Piccadilly  for  the  straw- 
berry beds  of  Kssex  or  Kent. 

Not  only  will  vegetables  and  fruit  of  every  description  be  raised, 
but  I  think  that  a  great  deal  might  be  done  in  the  Hiiialler  adjuncts  of 
the  Farm. 

It  is  quite  rcrtain  that  amongst  the  mass  ot  people  with  whom  we 
have  to  deal  there  will  be  a  residual  remnant  of  persons  to  some 
extent  mentally  infirm  or  physically  incapacitated  from  engaging  in 
the  harder  toils.  For  these  pcoplf  it  is  necessary  to  find  work,  and 
I  think  there  would  be  a  good  field  for  their  benumbed  energies 
in  looking  after  rabbits,  feeding  poultry,  minding  bees,  and,  in  short 
doing  all  those  little  odd  jobs  al)out  a  place  which  must  be  attended 
to,  but  which  will  not  repay  the  labour  of  able-bodied  men. 

One  advantage  of  the  cosmopolitan  nature  of  the  Army  is  that 
we  have  Olhccrs  in  almost  every  country  in  the  world.  When  this 
Scheme  is  well  on  the  way  every  Salvation  Oflicer  in  every  land  will 
have  it  imposed  upon  him  as  one  of  the  duties  of  his  calling  to  keep 
his  eyes  open  for  every  useful  notion  and  every  conceivable  con- 
trivance for  increasing  the  yield  of  the  soil  and  utilising  the  employ- 
ment of  waste  labour.  By  this  means  I  hope  that  there  will  not  be 
an  idea  in  the  world  which  will  not  be  made  available  for  our 
Scheme.  If  an  Oflicer  in  Sweden  can  give  us  practical  hints  as  to 
how  they  manage  food  kitchens  for  the  people,  or  an  Officer  in  the 
South  of  France  can  explain  how  the  peasants  are  able  to  rear  eggs 
and  poultry  not  only  for  their  own  use,  but  so  as  to  be  able  to 
export  them  by  the  million  to  England  ;  if  a  Sergeant  in  Belgium 
understands  how  it  is  that  the  rabbit  farmers  there  can  feed  and  fatten 
and  supply  our  market  with  millions  of  rabbits  we  shall  have  him 
over,  tap  his  brains,  and  set  him  to  work  to  benefit  our  people. 

By  the  establishment  of  this  Farm  Colony  we  should  create  a  great 
school  of  technical  agricultural  education.  It  would  be  a  Working 
Men's  Agricultural  University,  training  people  for  the  life  which  they 
would  have  to  lead  in  the  new  countries  they  will  go  forth  to  colonise 
and  possess. 


I 


I 


,  '1 


"'l     . 


I  -h 


134 


THE    FARM    PROPER. 


W'^'t 


Every  man  who  goes  to  our  Farm  Colony  docs  so,  not  to  acquire 
his  fortune,  but  to  obtain  a  knowledge  of  an  occupation  and  that 
mastery  )f  his  tools  which  will  enable  him  to  play  his  part  in  tlie 
battle  of  life.  He  will  be  provided  with  a  cheap  uniform,  which  wc 
shall  find  no  ditlculty  in  rigging  up  from  tlie  old  clothes  of  London, 
and  it  will  go  hardly  with  us,  and  we  shall  have  worse  luck  than  the 
ordinary  market  gardener,  if  we  do  not  succeed  in  making  sufficient 
profit  to  p'.y  all  the  expenses  of  the  concern,  and  leave  something 
over  for  the  maintenance  of  the  hopelessly  incompetent,  and  those 
who,  to  put  it  roughly,  are  not  worth  their  keep. 

Every  person  in  tlie  Farm  Colony  will  be  taught  the  elementary 
lesson  of  obedience,  and  will  be  instructed  in  the  needful  arts  ot 
husbandry,  or  some  other  method  of  earning  his  bread.  The 
Agricultural  Section  will  learn  the  lesson  of  the  seasons  and  of  the 
best  kind  of  seec'.s  and  plants.  Those  belonging  to  tlr's  Section  will 
learn  how  to  hedge  and  ditch,  how  to  make  roads  and  build  bridges, 
and  generally  to  subdue  the  ea  th  and  make  it  yield  to  him  the  riches 
which  it  never  withholds  from  the  industrious  and  skilful  workman. 
But  the  Farm  Colony,  anj'  more  than  the  City  Colony,  although  an 
abiding  institution,  will  not  provide  permanently  for  tho.^e  with  whom 
we  have  to  deal.  It  is  a  Training  School  for  Emigrants,  a  place 
where  those  indispensably  practical  lessons  are  given  which  will  enable 
the  Colonists  to  know  their  way  about  and  to  feel  themselves  at  home 
wherever  there  is  land  to  till,  stock  to  rear,  and  harvests  to  reap. 
We  shall  rely  greatly  for  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  Colony 
upon  the  sense  of  brotherhood  which  will  be  universal  in  it  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest.  While  there  will  be  no  systematic  wage- 
paying  there  will  be  some  sort  of  rewards  and  remuneration  for 
honest  industry,  which  will  be  stored  up,  for  his  benefit,  as  after- 
wards explained.  They  will  in  the  main  work  each  for  all,  and, 
therefore,  the  needs  of  all  will  be  supplied,  and  any  overplus  will  go  to 
make  the  bridge  over  which  any  poor  fellow  may  escape  from  the 
horrible  pit  and  the  miry  clay  from  which  they  themselves  have  been 
rescued. 

The  dulness  and  deadness  of  country  life,  especially  in  tho 
Colonies,  leads  many  men  to  prefer  a  life  of  hardship  and  privation 
in  a  City  slum.  But  in  our  Colony  they  would  be  near  to  each  other, 
and  would  enjoy  the  advantages  of  country  life  and  the  association 
and  companionship  of  life  in  town. 


1 


U  I 


J 


I 


I!' 


Section  2.— THE  INDUSTRIAL  VILLAGE. 

In  describing  the  operations  of  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade 
I  have  referred  to  the  enormous  quantities  of  good  sound  food  which 
would  be  collected  from  door  to  door  every  day  of  the  year.  Much 
of  this  food  would  be  suitable  for  human  consumption,  its  waste 
being  next  door  to  sinful.  Imagine,  for  instance,  the  quantities  of 
soup  which  might  be  made  from  boiling  the  good  fresh  meaty  bones 
of  the  great  City !  Think  of  the  dainty  dishes  which  a  French  cook 
would  be  able  to  serve  up  from  the  scraps  and  odds  and  ends  of  a 
single  West  End  kitchen.  Good  cookery  is  not  an  extravagance 
but  an  economy,  and  many  a  tasty  dish  is  made  by  our  Continental 
friends  out  of  materials  which  would  be  discarded  indignantly  by  the 
poorest  tramp  in  Whitechapel. 

But  after  all  that  is  done  there  will  remain  a  mass  of  food  which 
cannot  be  eaten  by  man,  but  can  be  converted  into  food  for  him 
by  the  simple  process  of  passing  it  through  another  digestive 
apparatus.  The  old  bread  of  London,  the  soiled,  stale  crusts  can  be 
used  in  foddering  the  horses  which  are  employed  in  collecting  the 
waste.  It  will  help  to  feed  the  rabbits,  whose  hutches  will  be  close 
by  every  cottage  on  the  estate,  and  the  hens  of  the  Colony  will 
flourish  on  the  crunib-^  which  fall  from  the  table  of  Dives.  But  after 
the  horses  and  the  rabbits  and  poultry  have  been  served,  there  will 
remain  a  residuum  of  eatable  matter,  which  can  only  be  profitably 
disposed  of  to  the  voracious  and  necessary  pig.  I  foreree  the  rise  of 
a  piggery  in  connection  with  the  new  Social  Scheme,  which  will  dwarf 
into  insignificance  all  that  exist  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  We 
have  the  advantage  of  the  experience  of  the  whole  world  as  to  the 
choice  of  breeds,  the  construction  of  sties,  and  the  rearing  of  stock. 
We  shall  have  the  major  part  of  our  food  practically  for  the  cost  of 
collection,  and  be  able  to  adopt  all  the  latest  methods  of  Chicago  for 
the  killing,    curing,  and  disposing  of  our  pork,  ham,  and  bacon. 


ii  I' 


I-'  ' 

1 
) 


HkI.    Ii 


136 


THE    INDUSTRIAL    VILLAGE. 


t  I! 


i 


riicre  are  few  animals  more  useful  than  the  pig.  lie  wiU  eat  any- 
thing, live  anywhere,  and  almost  every  particle  of  him,  nom  the  tip 
of  his  nose  to  the  end  of  his  tail,  is  capable  of  being  converted  into 
a  saleable  connnoility.  Your  pig  also  is  a  great  proiiucer  of  manure, 
and  agriculture  is  after  all  largely  a  matter  of  manure.  Treat  the 
'and  well  and  it  will  treat  you  well.  With  our  piggery  in  connection 
with  our  I'\irm  Colony  there  would  be  no  lack  of  manure. 

With  the  piggery  there  would  grow  up  a  gieat  bacon  factory  foi 
curing,    and   that  again   would    make    more   work.        Then    as    f 
sausages  they  would  be  produced  literally   by  the  mile,  and  all  i 
of  the   best  meat  instead  of  being   manufactu'     '  out    of  tic 
objectionable  ingredients  too  often  stowed   aw.;,         iliat  puv.r  i 
favourite  ration. 

Food,  however,  is  only  one  of  the  materials  which  will  Lc 
collected  by  the  Household  Salvage  Brigade.  The  barges  which 
lloat  down  the  river  with  the  tide,  laden  to  the  brim  with  the  cast-ofl 
waste  of  half  a  million  homes,  will  bring  down  an  enormous 
quantity  of  material  which  cannot  be  eaten  even  by  pigs.  There 
will  be,  for  instance,  the  old  bones.  At  present  it  pays  speculators 
to  go  to  the  prairies  of  America  and  gather  up  the  bleached  bones 
of  the  dead  bufl'aloes,  in  ord  ^r  to  make  manure.  It  pays  manu- 
facturet"s  to  bring  bones  from  the  end  of  the  earth  in  order  to  grind, 
them  up  for  use  on  our  fields.  But  the  waste  bones  of  Ldidon ;  who 
collects  them  ?  I  see,  as  in  a  vision,  barge  loads  upon  barge  loads 
of  bones  floating  down  the  Thames  to  the  great  Bone  Factor}'. 
Some  of  the  best  will  yield  material  for  knife  handles  and  buttons, 
and  the  numberless  articles  which  will  afford  ample  opportunity  in 
the  long  winter  evenings  for  the  acquisition  of  skill  on  the  part  of 
our  Colonist  car.'ers,  while  the  rest  will  go  straight  to  the  Manure  Mill. 
There  will  be  a  constant  demand  for  manure  on  the  part  ot  bur 
ever-increasing  nests  of  new  Colonies  and  our  Co-operative  Farm, 
every  man  in  which  will  be  educated  in  the  great  doctrine  that  there 
is  no  good  agriculture  without  liberal  manuring.  And  here  will  be 
an  unfailing  source  of  supply. 

Among  the  mateiial  which  comes  down  will  be  an  immense 
quantity  of  greasy  matter,  bits  of  fat,  suet  and  lard,  tallow,  strong 
butter,  and  all  the  rancid  fat  of  a  great  city.  For  all  that  we  shall 
have  to  find  use.  The  best  of  it  will  make  waggon  grease,  the 
rest,  after  due  boiling  and  straining,  will  form  the  nucleus  of  the  raw 
material  which  will  make  our  Social  Soap  a  household  word  through- 


GOVERNMENT  OF  COLONISTS. 


137 


out  the  kingdom.     After  the  Manure  Works,  the  Soap  Factory  will  be 
the  natural  adjunct  of  our  operations. 

The  fourth  great  output  of  the  daily  waste  of  London  will  be  waste 
paper  and  rags,  which,  after  being  chemically  treated,  and  duly 
manipulated  by  machinery,  will  be  re-issued  to  the  world  in  the 
shape  of  paper.  The  Salvation  Army  consumes  no  less  than  thirty 
tons  of  paper  every  week.  Here,  therefore,  would  be  one  customer 
for  as  much  paper  as  the  new  mill  would  be  able  to  turn  oQt  at  the 
onset ;  paper  on  which  we  could  print  the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy, 
and  tell  the  poor  of  all  nations  the  news  of  salvation  for  earth  and 
Heaven,  full,  present,  and  free  to  all  the  children  of  men. 

Then  comes  the  tin.  It  will  go  hard  with  us  if  we  cannot  find 
some  way  of  utilizing  these  tins,  whether  we  make  them  into  flower- 
pots with  a  coat  of  enamel,  or  convert  them  into  ornaments,  or  cut 
them  up  for  toys  or  some  other  purpose.  My  officers  have  been 
instructed  to  make  an  exhaustive  report  on  the  way  the  refuse 
collectors  of  Paris  deal  with  the  sardine  tins.  The  industry  of 
-aaking  tin  toys  will  be  one  which  can  be  practised  better  in  the  Farm 
Colony  than  in  the  City.  If  necessary,  we  shall  bring  an  accomplished 
workman  from  France,  who  will  teach  our  people  the  way  of  dealing 
with  the  tin. 

In  connection  with  all  this  it  is  obvious  there  would  be  a  constant 
demand  for  packing  cases,  for  twine,  rope,  and  for  boxes  of  all  kinds ; 
for  carts  and  cars ;  and,  in  short,  we  should  before  long  have 
a  complete  community  practising  almost  all  the  trades  that  are 
to  be  found  in  London,  except  the  keeping  of  grog  shops,  the  whole 
being  worked  upon  co-operative  principles,  but  co-operation  not  for 
the  benefit  of  the  individual  co-operator,  but  for  the  benefit  of  the 
sunken  mass  that  lies  behind  it. 

RULES  AND  REGULATIONS  FOR  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF 

COLONISTS. 
A  document  containing  the  Orders  and  Regulations  for  the  Government  of 
the  Colony  must  be  approved  and  signed  by  every  Colonist  before  admission. 
Amongst  other  things  there  will  be  the  following  : — 

1.  All  Officers  must  be  treated  respectfully  and  implicitly  obeyed. 

2.  The  use  of  intoxicants  strictly  prohibited,  none  being  allowed  within  its 
borders.  Any  Colonist  guilty  of  violating  this  Order  to  be  expelled,  and  that  on 
the  first  offence. 

3.  Expulsion  for  drunkenness,  dishonesty,  or  falsehood  will  follow  the  third 
offence. 


138 


THE    INDUSTRIAL   VILLAGE. 


■■K 


Mi 


4.  Profane  language  strictly  forbidden. 

5.  No  cruelty  to  be  practised  on  man,  woman,  child,  or  animal 

6.  Serious  offenders  against  the  virtue  of  women,  or  of  children  of  either  sex, 
to  incur  immediate  expulsion. 

7.  After  a  certain  period  of  probation,  and  a  considerable  amount  of  patience, 
all  who  will  not  work  to  be  expelled. 

8.  The  decision  of  the  Governor  of  the  Colony,  whether  in  the  City,  or  the 
Farm,  or  Over  the  Sea,  to  be  binding  in  all  cases. 

9.  With  respect  to  penalties,  the  following  rules  will  be  acted  upon.  The 
chief  reliance  for  the  maintenance  of  order,  as  has  been  observed  before,  will  be 
placed  upon  the  spirit  ol  love  which  will  prevail  throughout  the  community. 
But  as  it  cannot  be  expected  to  be  universally  successful,  certain  penalties  will 
have  to  be  provided  : — 

(a)  First  offences,  except  in  flagrant  cases,  will  be  recorded. 
(d)  The  second  offence  will  be  published. 

(c)  The  third  offsmce  will  incur  expulsion  or  being  handed  over  to 
the  authorities. 
Other  regulations  will  be  necessary  as  the  Sclieme  develops. 

There  will  be  no  attempt  to  enforce  upon  the  Colonists  the  rules 
and  regulations  to  which  Salvation  Soldiers  are  subjected.  Those 
who  are  soundly  saved  and  who  of  their  own  free  will  desire  to  become 
Salvationists  will,  of  course,  be  subjected  to  the  rules  of  the  Service. 
But  Colonists  who  are  willing  to  work  and  obey  the  orders  of  the 
Commanding  Officer  will  only  be  subject  to  the  foregoing  and  similar 
regulations  ;  in  all  other  things  they  will  be  left  free. 

For  instance,  there  will  be  no  objection  to  field  recreations  or  any 
outdoor  exercises  which  conduce  to  the  maintenance  of  health  and 
spirits.  A  reading  room  and  a  library  will  be  provided,  together  with 
a  hall,  in  which  they  can  amuse  themselves  in  the  long  winter  nights 
and  in  unfavourable  weather.  These  things  are  not  for  the  Salva- 
tion Army  Soldiers,  who  have  other  work  in  the  world,  but  for  those 
who  are  not  in  the  Army  these  recreations  will  be  permissible. 
Gambling  and  anything  of  an  immoral  tendency  will  be  repressed 
like  stealing. 

There  will  probably  be  an  Annual  Exhibition  of  fruit  and  flowers, 
at  which  all  the  Colonists  who  have  a  plot  of  garden  of  their  own 
will  take  part.  They  will  exhibit  their  fruit  and  vegetables  as  well 
as  their  rabbits,  their  poultry  and  all  the  other  live-stock  of  the  farm. 

Every  effort  will  be  made  to  establish  village  industries,  and  I  am 
not  without  hope  but  that  we  may  be  able  to  restore  some  of  the 


Iwers, 
own 
well 

Ifarm. 
I  am 

If  the 


PUBLIC    ELEMENTARY    SCHOOL. 


139 


domestic  occupations  which  steam  has  compelled  us  to  confine  to  the 
great  factories.  The  more  the  Colony  can  be  made  self-supporting 
the  better.  And  although  the  hand  loom  can  never  compete  with 
Manchester  mills,  still  an  occupation  which  kept  the  hands  of  tlie 
goodwife  busy  in  the  long  winter  nights,  is  not  to  be  despised  as  an 
element  in  the  economics  of  the  Settlement.  While  Mancli^-ater  and 
Leeds  may  be  able  to  manufacture  common  goods  much  more  cheaply 
than  they  can  be  spun  at  home,  even  these  emporiums,  with  all  their 
grand  improvements  in  machinery,  would  be  sorely  pressed  to-day  to 
compete  with  the  hand-loom  in  many  superior  classes  of  work.  For 
instance,  we  all  know  th^  hand-sewn  boot  still  holds  its  own  against 
the  most  perfect  article  that  machinery  can  turn  out. 

There  would  be,  in  the  centre  of  the  Colony,  a  Public  Elementary 
School  at  which  the  children  would  receive  training,  and  side  by 
side  with  that  an  Agricultural  Industrial  School,  as  elsewhere 
described. 

The  religious  welfare  of  the  Colony  would  be  looked  after  by  the 
Salvation  Army,  but  there  will  be  no  compulsion  to  take  part  in  its 
services.  The  Sabbath  will  be  strictly  observed  ;  no  unnecessary 
work  will  be  done  in  the  Colony  on  that  day,  but  beyond  interdicted 
labour,  the  Colonists  wi!;  be  allowed  to  spend  Sunday  as  they  please. 
It  will  be  the  fault  of  the  Salvation  Army  if  they  do  not  find  our 
Sunday  Services  sufficiently  attractive  to  command  their  attendance. 


i  ;''ll 


'■I: 


MM 


i:  }i 

I  ; 

)  '  n 

p..  i 

t    '  i 


\r  any 
and 
with 
lights 
lalva- 
l  those 
isible. 
[esscd 


n     1 


:^4iii 


»  f 


^:  :i 


fil 


Section  3.— AGRICULTURAL  VILLAGES. 

This  brings  me  to  the  next  feature  of  the  Scheme,  the  creation  of 
agricultural  settlements  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Farm,  around 
the  original  Estate.  I  hope  to  obtain  land  for  the  purpose  of  allot- 
ments which  can  be  taken  up  to  the  extent  of  so  many  acrt  s  by  the 
more  competent  Colonistt  who  wish  to  remain  at  home  instead  of 
going  abroad.  There  will  be  allotments  from  three  to  five  acres 
with  a  cottage,  a  cow,  and  the  necessary  tools  and  seed  for  making 
the  allotment  self-supporti.ig.  A  weekly  'I'harge  will  be  imposed  for 
the  repayment  of  ihe  cost  of  the  fixing  and  stock.  The  tenant 
will,  of  course,  be  entitled  to  his  tenant-right,  but  adequate  pre- 
cautions will  be  taken  against  underletting  and  other  forms  by  which 
sweating  makes  its  way  into  agricultural  communities.  On  entering 
into  possession,  the  tenant  will  become  responsible  for  his  own  and 
his  family's  maintenance.  I  shall  stand  no  longer  in  the  relation  of 
father  of  the  household  to  him,  as  I  do  to  the  other  members  of  the 
Colony  ;  his  obligations  will  cease  to  me,  except  in  the  payment  of  his 
rent. 

The  creation  of  a  large  number  of  Allotment  Farms  would  make  the 
establishment  of  a  creamery  necessary,  where  the  milk  could  be 
brought  in  every  day  and  converted  into  butter  by  the  most  modem 
methods,  with  the  least  possible  delay.  Dairying,  which  has  in  some 
places  on  the  Continent  almost  aevelopcd  to  a  fine  art,  is  in  a  very 
backward  condition  in  this  country.  But  by  co-operation  among 
the  cottiers  and  an  intelligent  Headquarter  staff  much  could  be  done 
which  at  present  appears  impossible. 

The  tenant  will  be  allowed  permanent  tenancy  on  payment  of  an 
annual  rent  or  land  tax,  subject,  of  course,  to  such  necessary  regu- 
lations which  may  be  made  for  the  prevention  of  intemperance  and 
immorality  and  the  prese»-vation  of  the  fundamental  features  of  the 
Colony.     In  this  way  our  Farm  Colony  will  throw  off  small  Coionies 


COTTAGES    DETACHED    RESIDENCES. 


141 


all  round  it  until  the  original  site  is  but  the  centre  of  a  whole  series 
of  small  farms,  where  those  whom  we  have  rescued  and  trained  will 
live,  if  not  un^.er  their  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  at  least  in  the  midst 
of  their  own  little  fruit  farm,  and  surrounded  by  their  small  flocks 
and  herds.  The  cottages  will  be  so  many  detached  residences,  each 
standing  in  its  own  ground,  not  so  far  away  from  its  neighbours  as 
to  deprive  its  occupants  of  the  benefit  of  human  intercourse. 


i  1 


I'-f. 


I      I. 


M 


81   ■' 


Section  4.— CO-OPERATIVE  FARM. 

Side  by  side  vfiu  he  Farm  Colony  proper  I  should  propose  to 
renew  the  experiment  of  Mr.  E.  T.  Craig,  which  he  found  work  so 
successfully  at  Ralahine.  When  any  members  of  the  original  Colony 
had  pulled  themselves  sufficiently  together  to  desire  to  begin  again 
on  their  own  account,  I  should  group  some  of  them  as  partners  in  a 
Co-operative  Farm,  and  see  whether  or  no  the  success  achieved  in 
County  Clare  could  not  be  repeated  in  Essex  or  in  Kent.  I  cannot 
have  more  unpromising  material  to  deal  with  than  the  wild  Irishmen 
on  Colonel  Vandeleur's  estate,  and  I  would  certainly  take  care  to  be 
safeguarded  against  any  such  mishap  as  destroyed  the  early  promise 
of  Ralahine. 

I  shall  look  upon  this  as  one  of  the  most  important  experiments  of 
the  entire  series,  and  if,  as  I  anticipate,  it  can  be  worked  success- 
fully, that  is,  if  the  results  of  Ralahine  can  be  secured  on  a  larger 
scale,  I  shall  consider  thai  the  problem  of  the  employment  of  the 
people,  and  the  use  of  the  land,  and  the  food  supply  for  the  globe,  is 
unquestionably  solved,  were  its  inhabitants  many  times  greater  in 
number  than  they  are. 

Without  saying  more,  some  idea  will  be  obtained  as  to  what  I 
propose  from  the  story  of  Ralahine  related  briefly  at  the  close  of 
this  volume. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


NEW  BRITAIN.— THE  COLONY  OVER-SEA. 


We  now  come  tj   the  third  niid  final  ^ 
process.     The  Colony  Over-Sea.     To  me  . 
with  some  people  .o  damn  the  S(  heme, 
tion  has  been  dili<5ently  fostered  in  certai 


';gf.     r  the  regenerative 

on  < . .  T-Sea  is  sufficient 

p,  '"udice  against  emigra- 

^uarters  by  those  who 


have  openly  admitted  that  they  did  not  vish  to  deplete  the  ranks  of 
the  Army  of  Discontent  at  home,  for  ■  r.ore  discontented  people 
you  have  here  the  more  trouble  you  can  give  the  Government,  and 
:he  more  power  you  have  to  bring  about  the  general  overturn,  which 
is  the  only  thing  in  which  they  see  any  hope  for  the  future.  Some 
again  object  to  emigration  on  the  ground  that  it  is  transportation.  I 
confess  that  I  have  great  sympathy  with  those  who  object  to  emigra- 
tion as  carried  on  hitherto,  and  if  it  be  a  consolation  to  any  of  my 
critics  I  may  say  at  once  thiit  so  far  from  compulsorily  expatriating 
any  Englishman  I  shall  refuse  to  have  any  part  or  lot  in  emigrating 
any  man  or  woman  who  does  no*  voluntarily  wish  to  be  sent  out. 

A  journey  over  sea  is  a  very  different  thing  now  to  what  it  was 
when  a  voyage  to  Australia  consumed  more  than  six  months,  when 
emigrants  were  crowded  by  hundreds  into  sailing  ships,  and  scenes 
of  abominable  sin  and  brutality  were  the  normal  incidents  of  the 
passage.  The  world  has  grown  much  smaller  since  the  electric 
telegraph  was  discovered  and  side  by  side  with  the  shrinkage  of 
this  planet  under  the  infiuence  of  steam  and  electricity  there  has 
come  a  sense  of  brotherhood  and  a  consciousness  of  community  of 
interest  and  of  nationality  on  the  part  of  the  English-speaking  people 
throughout  the  world.  To  change  from  Devon  to  Australia  is  not 
such  a  change  in  many  respects  as  merely  to  cross  over  from  Devon 
to  Normandy.  In  Austra.ia  the  Emigrant  finds  himself  among  men 
and  women  of  the  same  habits,  the  same  language,  and  in  fact  the 
same  people,  excepting  that  they  live  under  the  southern  cross  instead 


i 


it  i  i 


144 


THE    COLONY    OVER-SEA. 


If      ♦ 


of  in  the  northern  latitudes.  The  reduction  of  the  postfige  between 
England  and  the  Colonies,  a  reduction  which  I  hop'^  will  soon  be 
followed  by  the  establishment  of  tlie  Universal  Penny  Post  between 
tlic  English  speaking  lands,  will  further  tend  to  lessen  the  sense  of 
distance. 

Tlie  constant  travelling  of  the  Colonists  backwards  and  forwards 
to  England  makes  it  absurd  to  speak  of  the  Colonies  as  if  they  were 
a  foreign  land.  They  are  simply  pieces  of  Britain  distributed  about 
the  world,  enabling  the  Britisher  to  have  access  to  the  richest  parts 
of  the  earth. 

Another   objection  which   will   be  taken  to  this  Scheme  is  that 
colonists  already  over  sea  will  see  with  infinite  alarm  the  prospect  of 
the  transfer  of  our  waste  labour  to  their  country.     It  is  easy  to  under- 
stand how  this  misconception  will  arise,  but  there  is  not  much  danger 
of  opposition  on  this  score.     The  working-men  who  rule  the  roost 
at    Melbourne   object   to   the   introduction  of  fresh   workmen   into 
their  labour  market,   for  the  same  reason  that  the  new   Dockers' 
Union  objects  to  the  appearance  of  new  hands  at   the  dock  gates, 
tliat  is  for  fear  the  newcomers  w!ll  enter  into  unfriendly  competition 
with  them.     But  no  Colony,  not  even  the  Protectionist  and  Trade 
Unionists  who  govern  Victoria,  could  rationally  object  to  the  intro- 
duction of  trained   Colonists   planted   out  upon    the   land.     They 
would    see   that   these    men    would   become  a   source   of  wealth, 
simply  because   they   would  at   once    become    producers  as  well 
as   consumers,    and   instead   of  cutting  down    wages   they   would 
tend  directly  to  improve    trade   and   so    increase  the   employment 
of  the   workmen    now    in    the   Colony.     Emigration    as    hitherto 
conducted  has  been  carried  out  on  directly  opposite  principles  to 
these.     Men  and  women  have  simply  been  shot  down  into  countries 
without  any  regard  to  their  possession  of  ability  to  earn  a  liveli- 
hood, and  have  consequently  become  an  incubus  upon  the  energies 
of  the  community,  and  a  discredit,  expense,  and  burden.    The  result 
is  that  they  gravitate  to  the  towns  and  compete   with  the  colonial 
workmen,  and  thereby  drive  down  wages.     We   shall   avoid  that 
mistake.     We  need  not  wonder  that  Australians  and  other  Colonists 
should    object  to  their   countries    being   converted    into   a   sort  of 
dumping  ground,  on  which   to   deposit    men   and    women    totally 
unsuited  for  the  new  circumstances  in  which  they  find  themselves. 

Moreover,    looking    at    it   from    the   aspect   of   the    class   itself, 
would    such   emigration    be    of   any    enduring  value?     It    is    not 


WHERE    SHOULD    IT    BE  ? 


145 


merely  more  favourable  circumstances  that  are  required  by 
these  crowds,  but  those  habits  of  industry,  truthfulness,  and 
self-restraint,  which  will  enable  them  to  profit  by  better  conditions  if 
they  could  only  come  to  possess  them.  According  to  the  most 
reliable  information,  there  are  already  sadly  too  many  of  the  same 
classes  we  want  to  help  in  countries  supposed  to  be  the  paradise  of 
the  working-man. 

What  could  be  done  with  a  people  whose  first  enquiry  on  reaching 
a  foreign  land  would  be  for  a  whisky  shop,  and  who  were  utterly 
ignorant  of  those  forms  of  labour  and  habits  of  industry  absolutely 
indispensable  to  the  earning  of  a  subsistence  amid  the  hardships  of  an 
Emigrant's  life  ?  Such  would  naturally  shrink  from  the  self-denial 
the  new  circumstances  inevitably  called  for,  and  rather  than  suflFer 
the  inconveniences  connected  with  a  settler's  life,  would  probably 
sink  down  into  helpless  despair,  or  settle  in  the  slums  of  the  first 
city  they  came  to. 

These  difficulties,  in  my  estimation,  bar  the  way  to  the  emigration 
on  any  considerable  scale  of  the  "  submerged  tenth,"  and  yet  I  am 
strongly  of  opinion,  with  the  majority  of  those  who  have  thought  and 
written  on  political  economy,  that  emigration  is  the  only  remedy  for 
this  mighty  evil.  Now,  the  Over-Sea  Colony  plan,  I  think,  meets 
these  difficulties  : — 

(1)  In  the  preparation  of  the  Colony  for  the  people. 

(2)  In  the  preparation  of  the  people  for  the  Colony. 

(3)  In  the  arrangements  that  are  rendered  possible  lor  the  tiansport  of 

the  people  when  prepared. 

It  is  proposed  to  secure  a  large  tract  of  land  in  some  country 
suitable  to  our  purpose.  We  hav?  thought  of  South  Africa,  to  begin 
with.  We  are  in  no  way  pledged  to  this  part  of  the  world,  or  to  it 
alone.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  our  establishing  similar  settle- 
ments in  Canada,  Australia,  or  some  other  land.  British  Columbia 
has  been  strongly  urged  upon  our  notice.  Indeed,  it  is  certain  if 
this  Scheme  proves  the  success  we  anticipate,  the  first  Colony  will 
be  the  forerunner  of  similar  communities  elsewhere.  Africa,  how- 
ever, presents  to  us  great  advantages  for  the  moment.  There  is  any 
amount  of  land  suitable  for  our  purpose  which  can  be  obtained,  we 
think,  without  difficulty.  The  climate  is  healthy.  Labour  is  in 
great  demand,  so  that  if  by  any  means  work  failed  on  the  Colony, 
there  would  be  abundant  opportunities  for  securing  good  wages  from 
the  neighbouring  Companies. 


i^i'  ii 


.'^  I 


-\ 


ll  ^ 


i 


I  i 


■I  ' 


Section  i.— THE  COLONY  AND  THE  COLONISTS. 

Before  any  decisiou  is  arrived  at,  however,  information  will  be 
obtained  as  to  the  position  and  character  of  tlie  land  ;  tlie  accessibility 
of  markets  for  commodities ;  communication  with  Europe,  and  other 
necessary  particulars. 

The  next  business  would  be  to  obtain  on  grant,  or  otherwise,  a 
sufficient  tract  of  suitable  country  for  the  purpose  of  a  Colony,  on 
conditions  that  would  meet  its  present  and  future  character. 

After  obtaining  a  title  to  the  country,  the  next  business  will  be  to 
effect  a  settlement  in  it.  This,  I  suppose,  will  be  accomplished  by 
sending  a  competent  body  ot  men  under  skilled  supervision  to  fix  on 
a  suitable  location  for  the  first  settlement,  erecting  such  buildings  as 
would  be  required,  enclosing  and  breaking  up  the  land,  putting  in 
first  crops,  and  so  storing  sufficient  supplies  of  food  for  the  future. 

Then  a  supply  of  Colonists  would  be  sent  out  to  join  them,  and 
from  time  to  time  other  detachments,  as  the  Colony  was  prepared  to 
receive  them.  Further  locations  could  then  be  chosen,  and  more 
country  broken  up,  and  before  a  very  long  period  ha^-  passed  the 
Colony  would  be  capable  of  receiving  and  absorbing  a  continuous 
stream  of  emigi'ation  of  consider,  ble  proportions. 

The  next  work  would  be  the  establishment  of  a  strong  and 
efficient  government,  prepared  to  carry  out  and  enforce  the  same 
laws  and  discipline  to  which  the  Colonists  had  been  accustomed  in 
England,  together  with  such  alterations  and  additions  as  the  new 
circumstances  would  render  necessary. 

The  Colonists  would  become  responsible  for  all  that  concerned 
their  own  support ;  that  is  to  say,  they  would  buy  and  sell,  engage 
in  trade,  hire,  servants,  and  transact  all  the  ordinary  business  affairs 
of  every-day  life. 

Our  Headquarters  in  England  would  represent  the  Colony  in  this 
country  on  their  behalf,  and  with  money  supplied  by  them,  when 
once  fairly  established,  would  buy  for  their  agents  what  they  were  at 


II 


THE    COLONISTS    PREPARED   FOR    THE    COLONY.        147 


same 

led  in 

ke  new 

Icerned 
engage 
I  affairs 

|in  this 

when 

/ere  at 


the  outset  unable  to  produce  tlicmselves,  such  as  machinery  and  the 
like,  also  selling  their  produce  to  the  best  advantage. 

All  land,  timber,  minerals,  and  the  like,  would  be  rented  to  the 
Colonists,  all  unearned  increments,  and  improvements  on  the  land, 
would  be  held  on  behalf  of  the  entire  community,  and  utilised  for  its 
general  advantages,  a  certain  percentage  being  set  apart  for  the 
extension  of  its  borders,  and  tiic  continued  transmission  of  Colonists 
from  England  in  increasing  numbers. 

Arrangements  would  be  made  for  the  temporary  accommodation 
of  new  arrivals,  Ofilcers  being  maintained  for  the  purpose  of  taking 
them  in  hand  on  landing  and  directing  and  controlling  them  generally. 
So  far  as  possible,  they  would  be  introduced  to  work  without  any 
waste  of  time,  situations  being  ready  for  them  to  enter  upon  ;  and 
any  way,  their  wants  would  he  supplied  till  this  was  the  case. 

There  would  be  friends  who  would  welcome  and  care  for  them, 
not  merely  on  the  principle  of  profit  and  loss,  but  on  the  ground  of 
friendship  and  religion,  many  of  whom  the  emigrants  would  probably 
have  known  before  in  the  old  country,  together  with  all  the  social 
influences,  restraints,  and  religious  enjoyments  to  whiv,h  the  Colonists 
have  been  accustomed. 

After  dealing  with  the  preparation  of  the  Colony  for  the  Colonists, 
we  now  come  to  the  preparation  of  the 

COLONISTS    FOR    THE  COLONY    OVER-SEA. 

They  would  be  prepared  by  an  education  in  honesty,  truth,  and 
industry,  without  which  we  could  not  indulge  in  any  hope  of  their 
succeeding.  While  men  and  women  would  be  received  into  the 
City  Colony  without  character,  none  would  be  sent  over  the  sea  who 
had  not  been  proved  worthy  of  this  trust. 

They  would  be  inspired  with  an  ambition  to  do  well  for  themseh.Ts 
and  their  fellow  Colonists. 

They  would  be  instructed  in  all  that  concerned  their  future  career. 

They  would  be  taught  those  industries  in  which  they  would  be 
wost  profitably  employed. 

They  would  be  inured  to  the  hardships  they  would  have  to  endure. 

Ti'cy  would  be  accustomed  to  the  economies  they  would  have  to 
practise. 

They  would  be  made  acquainted  with  the  comrades  with  whoiii 
they  would  have  to  live  and  labour. 

They  would  be  accustomed  to  the  Goverr,n;ent,  Orders,  anc 
Regulations  which. they  would  have  to  obey. 


.  < 


mN 


)     !■ 


?i'4  ( 


148 


THE    COLONY    AND    THE    COLONISTS. 


1,^ 


I 


They  would  be  educated,  so  far  as  the  opportunity  served,  in  those 
habits  of  patience,  forbearance,  and  affection  which  would  so  largely 
tend  to  their  own  welfare,  and  to  the  successful  carrying  out  of  this 
part  of  our  Scheme. 

TRANSPORT    TO    THE    COLONY   OVER-SEA. 

We  now  come  to  the  question  of  transport.  This  certainly  has  an 
element  of  difficulty  in  it,  if  the  remedy  is  to  be  applied  on  a  very 
large  scale.      But  this  will  appear  of  less  importance  if  we  consider  : — 

That  the  largeness  of  the  number  will  reduce  the  individual  cost. 
Emigrants  can  be  conveyed  to  such  a  location  in  South  Africa,  as 
we  have  in  view,  by  ones  and  twos  at  ;^8  per  head,  including  land 
journey  ;  and,  no  doubt,  were  a  large  number  carried,  this  figure 
would  be  reduced  considerably. 

Many  of  the  Colonists  would  have  friends  who  would  assist  them 
with  the  cost  of  passage  money  and  outfit. 

All  the  unmarried  will  have  earned  something  on  the  City  and 
Farn  Colonies,  which  will  go  towards  meeting  their  ^jassage  money. 
In  the  course  of  time  relatives,  who  are  comfortably  settled  in  the 
Colony,  will  save  money,  and  assist  their  kindred  in  getting  out  to 
them.  We  have  the  examples  before  our  eyes  in  Australia  and  the 
United  States  of  how  those  countries  have  in  this  form  absorbed 
from  Europe  millions  of  poor  struggling  people. 

All  Colonists  and  emigrants  generally  will  bind  themselves  in  a 
legal  instrument  to  repay  all  monies,  expenses  of  passage,  outfit,  or 
otherwise,  which  would  in  turn  be  utilised  in  sending  out  further 
contingents. 

On  the  plan  named,  if  prudently  carried  out,  and  generously 
assisted,  the  transfer  of  the  entire  surplus  population  of  this  country 
is  not  only  possible,  but  would,  v:c  think,  in  process  of  time,  be 
effected  with  enormous  advantage  to  the  people  themselves,  to  this 
coanny,  and  the  country  of  their  adoption.  The  history  of 
Australia  and  the  Uni*;  d  States  evidences  this.  It  is  quite  true 
the  first  settlers  in  the  latter  were  people  superior  in  every  way 
for  such  an  enterprise  to  the  bulk  of  those  we  propose  to  send  out. 
But  it  is  equally  true  that  large  numbers  of  the  most  ignorant  and 
vicious  of  our  European  populations  'lave  been  pouring  into  that 
country  ever  since  without  affecting  it ,  prosperity,  and  this  Colony 
Over-Sea  would  have  the  immense  advantage  at  the  outset  which 
would  come  from  a  government  and  discipline  carefully  adapted  to  its 
peculiar  circumstances,  and  rigidly  enforced  in  every  particular. 


i: 


TRANSPORT  TO  THE  COLONY  OVER-SEA. 


149 


I  would  guard  against  misconception  in  relation  to  this  Colony 
Over-Sea  by  pointing  out  that  all  my  proposals  here  are  necessarily  ten- 
tative and  experimental.  There  is  no  intention  on  my  part  to  stick  to 
any  of  these  suggestions  if,  on  maturer  consideration  and  consulta- 
tion with  practical  men,  they  can  be  improved  upon.  Mr.  Arnold 
White,  who  has  al'-eady  conducted  two  parties  of  Colonists  to  South 
Africa,  is  one  of  the  few  men  in  this  country  who  has  had 
practical  experience  of  the  actual  difficulties  of  colonisation. 
I  have,  through  a  mutual  friend,  had  the  advantage  of  com- 
paring notes  with  him  very  fully,  and  I  venture  to  believe  that  there 
is  nothing  in  this  Scheme  that  is  not  in  harmony  with  the 
result  of  his  experience  In  a  couple  of  months  this  book  will  be 
read  all  over  the  world.  It  will  bring  me  a  plentiful  crop  of  sugges- 
tions, and,  I  hope,  offers  of  service  from  many  valuable  and 
experienced  Colonists  in  every  country.  In  the  due  order  of  things 
the  Colony  Over-Sea  is  the  last  to  be  started.  Long  before  our  first 
batch  of  Colonists  is  ready  to  cross  the  ocean  I  shall  be  in  a  position 
to  correct  and  revise  the  proposals  of  this  chapter  by  the  best  wisdom 
and  matured  experience  of  the  practical  men  of  every  Colony  in  the 
Empire. 


i    ! 


';lii 


I   ^ 


m 


be 
to  this 
ory    of 


III 


'i| 


ir. 


tr 


t 


; 


I 

1 

1 1 


Section  2.— UNIVERSAL  EMIGRATION. 

We  have  in  our  remarks  on  the  Over-Sea  Colony  referred  to  the 
general  concensus  of  opinion  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  studied 
the  Social  Question  as  to  Emigration  being  the  only  remedy  for  the 
overcrowded  population  of  this  country,  at  the  same  time  showing 
some  of  the  difficulties  which  lie  in  the  way  of  the  adoption  of  the 
remedy  ;  the  dislike  of  the  people  to  so  great  a  change  as  is 
involved  in  going  from  one  country  to  another ;  the  cost  of  their 
transfer,  and  their  general  unfitness  for  an  emigrant's  life.  These 
difficulties,  as  I  think  we  have  seen,  are  fully  met  by  the  Over-Sea 
Colony  Scheme.  But,  apart  from  those  who,  driven  by  their  abject 
poverty,  will  avail  tht  nselves  of  our  Scheme,  there  are  multitudes 
of  people  all  over  the  country  who  would  be  likely  to  emigrate  could 
they  be  assisted  in  so  doing.  Those  we  propose  to  help  in  the 
following  manner  :— 

1.  By  opening  a  Bureau  in  London,  and  appointing  Officers  whose  business 
it  will  be  to  acquire  every  kind  of  information  as  to  suitable  countries,  their 
adaptation  to,  and  the  openings  they  present  for  different  trades  and  callings, 
the  possibility  of  obtaining  land  and  employment,  the  rates  of  remuneration, 
and  the  like.  These  enquiries  will  include  the  cost  of  passage-money,  railway 
fares,  outfit,  together  with  every  kind  of  information  required  by  an  emigrant. 

2.  From  this  Bureau  any  one  may  obtain  all  necessary  information. 

3.  Special  terms  vjill  be  arranged  with  steamships,  railway  companies,  and 
land  agents,  of  which  emigrants  using  the  Bureau  will  have  the  advantage. 

4.  Introductics  will  be  supplied,  as  far  as  possible,  to  agents  and  friends  in 
the  localities  to  which  the  emigrant  may  be  proceeding. 

5.  Intending  emigrants,  desirous  of  saving  money,  can  deposit  it  through 
this  Bureau  in  the  Army  Bank  for  that  purpose. 

6.  It  is  expected  that  government  contractors  and  other  employers  of  labour 
requiring  Colonists  of  reliable  character  will  apply  to  this  Bureau  for  such, 
offering  favourable  terms  with  respect  to  passage-money,  employment,  and 
other  advantages. 


AN    EMIGRATION    BUREAU. 


161 


7,  No  emigrant  will  be  sent  out  in  response  to  any  application  from  abioad 
where  the  emigrant's  expenses  are  defrayed,  without  references  as  to  character, 
industry,  and  fitness. 

This  fiureau,  we  think,  will  be  especially  useful  to  women  and 
young  girls.  There  must  be  a  large  number  of  such  in  this  country 
living  in  semi-starvation,  anyway,  with  very  poor  prospects,  who 
would  be  very  welcome  abroad,  the  expense  of  whose  transfer 
governments,  and  masters  and  mistresses  alike  would  be  very  glad  to 
defray,  or  assist  in  defraying,  if  they  could  only  be  assured  on  both 
sides  of  the  beneficial  character  of  the  arrangements  when  made. 

So  widespread  now  are  the  operations  of  the  Army,  and  so 
extensively  will  this  Bureau  multiply  its  agencies  that  it  will  speedily 
be  able  to  make  personal  enquiries  on  botli  sides,  that  is  in  the 
interest  alike  of  the  emigrant  and  the  intended  employer  in  any  part 
of  the  world. 


'i. 

■^1 

1 

! 

i 
i 

1  : 

1 

^! 

Ji  I 


irough 

llaliour 
such, 
,   and 


l-l! 


ft: 

Hi' 

I 

k 


i.j. 


;.    V 


<■!} 


'         11 

M 

k 

II 

r 

I.  J 


Pr 


f!?l 


:il 


I'J 


Section    3— THE    SALVATION   SHIP. 

When  we  have  selected  a  party  of  emigrants  whom  we  believe 
to  be  sufficiently  prepared  to  settle  on  the  land  which  has  been  got 
ready  for  them  in  the  Colony  over  Sea,  it  will  be.  no  dismal 
expatriation  which  will  await  them.  No  one  who  has  ever  been  on 
the  West  Coast  of  Ireland  when  the  emigrants  were  departing,  and 
has  heard  the  dismal  wails  which  arise  from  those  who  are  taking 
leave  of  each  other  for  the  last  time  on  earth,  can  fail  to  sympathise 
with  the  horror  excited  in  many  minds  by  the  very  word  emigration. 
But  when  our  party  sets  out,  there  will  be  no  violent  wrenching  of 
home  ties.  In  our  ship  we  shall  export  them  all — father,  mother, 
and  children.  The  individuals  will  be  grouped  in  families,  and  the 
families  will,  on  the  Farm  Colony,  have  been  for  some  months  past 
more  or  less  near  neighbours,  meeting  each  other  in  tJie  field,  in 
the  workshops,  and  in  the  Religious  Services.  It  will  resemble 
nothing  so  much  as  the  unmooring  of  a  little  piece  of  England,  and 
towing  it  across  the  sea  to  find  a  safe  anchorage  in  a  sunnier  clime. 
The  ship  which  takes  out  emigrants  will  bring  back  the  produt  i  of 
the  farms,  and  constant  travelling  to  and  fro  will  lead  more  than 
ever  to  the  feeling  that  we  and  our  ocean-sundered  brethren  are 
members  of  one  family. 

No  one  who  has  ever  crossed  the  ocean  can  have  failed  to  be 
impressed  with  the  mischief  that  comes  to  emigrants  when  they  are 
on  their  way  to  their  destination.  Many  and  many  a  girl  has  dated 
her  downfall  from  the  temptations  which  beset  her  while  journeying 
to  a  land  where  she  had  hoped  to  find  a  happier  future. 

"  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to  do,"  and  he 
must  have  his  hands  full  on  hoard  an  emigrant  ship.  Look  into 
the  steerage  at  any  time,  and  you  v;ill  find  boredom  inexpressible 
on  every  far ,'.  The  men  have  nothing  to  do,  and  an  incident  of  no 
n  ore  in?portance  than  the  appearance  of  a  sail  upon  the  distant 


believe 
een  got 
dismal 
been  on 
ing,  and 
e  taking 
Tipathise 
igration. 
ching  of 
mother, 
and  the 
iths  past 
field,  in 
•esemble 
and,  and 
ler  clime, 
odut I  of 
re  than 
iren  are 

;d  to  be 

I  they  are 

las  dated 

irneying 

I'  and  he 

took  into 

jressible 

Int  of  no 

distant 


yNORK    ON    BOARD  SHIP. 


153 


horizon  is  an  event  which  makes  the  w'lole  ship  talk.  I  do  not  see 
why  this  should  be  so.  Of  course,  in  the  case  of  conveying 
passengers  and  freight,  with  the  utmost  possible  expedition,  for 
short  distances,  it  would  be  idle  to  expect  that  either  time  or 
energies  could  be  spared  for  the  employment  or  instruction  of  the 
passengers.  But  the  case  is  different  when,  instead  of  going  to 
America,  the  emigrant  tarns  his  face  to  South  Africa  or  remote 
Australia.  Then,  even  with  the  fastest  steamers,  they  must  remain 
some  weeks  or  months  upon  the  high  seas.  The  result  is  that 
habits  of  idleness  are  contracted,  bad  acCjUaintances  are  formed,  and 
very  often  the  moral  and  religious  work  of  a  lifetime  is 
undone. 

To  avoid  these  evil  consequences,  I  think  we  should  be  compelled 
to  have  a  ship  of  our  own  as  soon  as  possible.  A  sailing  vessel 
might  be  fo  aid  the  best  adapted  for  the  work.  Leaving  out  the 
question  of  t  ne,  which  would  be  of  very  secondary  importance  with 
us,  the  constr  ction  of  a  sailing  ship  would  afford  more  space  for 
the  accommodation  of  emigrants  and  for  industrial  occupation,  and 
would  involve  considerably  less  working  expenses,  besides  costing 
very  much  less  at  the  onset,  even  if  we  did  not  have  one  given  to 
us,  which  I  should  think  would  be  very  probable. 

All  the  er.iigrants  would  be  mder  the  chrrge  of  Army  Officers, 
and  instead  of  the  voyage  being  demoralising,  it  would  be  made 
instructive  and  profitable.  From  I'aving  London  to  landing  at 
their  destination,  every  colonist  would  be  under  watchful  oversight, 


here  they  were  still 
would  be  beneficial 


could  receive  instruction  in  those  particulars 
needing  it,  and  be  subjected  to  influences  th 
everyway 

Then  we  have  seen  that  one  of  the  g'  .t  difficulties  in  the 
direction  of  emigration  is  the  cost  of  transport  The  expense  of 
conveying  a  man  from  England  to  Austra  occupying  as  it  does 
some  seven  or  eight  weeks,  arises  not  s(^  uch  from  the  expense 
connected  with  the  working  of  the  vesse  wnich  carries  him,  as  the 
amount  of  provisions  he  consumes  during  the  passage.  Now,  with 
this  plan  I  think  that  the  emigrants  might  br  made  to  earn  at  least 
a  portion  of  this  outlay.  There  is  no  reasoi  why  a  man  should  not 
work  on  board  ship  any  more  than  on  land.  Of  course,  nothing 
much  could  be  done  when  the  weather  was  very  rough  ;  but  the 
average  number  of  days  during  which  it  wcnld  be  impossible  for 
passengers   to    employ  themselves   profitably   in    the    time    spent 


PII       t 

n 


SiT  i 


t  *  i 


It 


'>.); 


between    the   Channel    and   Cape    Town    or   Australia   would    be 
comparatively  few. 

When  the  ship  was  pitching  or  rolling,  work  would  be  difficult ; 
but  even  then,  when  the  Colonists  get  their  sea-legs,  and  are  free 
from  the  qualmishness  which  overtakes  landsmen  when  first  getting 
afloat,  I  cannot  see  why  they  should  not  engage  in  some  form  of 
industrial  work  far  more  profitable  than  yawning  and  lounging  about 
the  deck,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  by  so  doing  they  would 
lighten  the  expense  of  their  transit.  The  sailors,  firemen, 
engineers,  and  everybody  else  connected  with  a  vessel  have  to 
work,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  our  Colonists  should  not  work 
also. 

Of  course,  this  method  would  require  special  arrangements  in  the 
fitting  up  of  the  vessel,  which,  if  it  were  our  own,  it  would  not  be 
difficult  to  make.  At  first  sight  it  may  seem  difficult  to  find 
employments  on  board  ship  which  could  be  engaged  in  to  advantage, 
and  it  might  not  be  found  possible  to  fix  up  every  individual  right 
away ;  but  I  think  there  would  be  very  few  of  the  class  and 
character  of  people  we  should  take  out,  with  the  prior  instructions 
they  would  have  received,  who  would  not  have  fitted  themselves 
into  some  useful  labour  before  the  voyage  ended. 

To  begin  with,  there  would  be  a  large  amount  of  the  ordinary 
ship's  work  that  the  Colonists  could  perform,  such  as  the  preparation 
of  food,  serving  it  out,  cleaning  the  decks  and  fittings  of  the  ship 
generally,  together  with  the  loading  and  unloading  of  cargo.  All 
these  operations  could  be  readily  done  under  the  direction  of  per- 
manent hands.  Then  shocmaking,  knitting,  sewing,  tailoring,  and 
other  kindred  occupations  could  be  engaged  in.  I  should  think 
sewing-machines  could  be  worked,  and,  one  way  or  another,  any 
amount  of  garments  could  be  manufactured,  which  would  find  ready 
and  profitable  sale  on  landing,  cither  among  the  Colonists  them- 
selves, or  with  the  people  round  about. 

Not  only  would  the  ship  thus  be  a  perfect  hive  of  industry,  it  would 
also  be  a  floatinp  temple.  The  Captain,  Officers,  and  every  member  of 
the  crew  would  be  Salvationists,  and  all,  therefore,  alike  interested  in 
the  enterprise.  Moreover,  the  probabilities  are  that  we  should 
obtain  the  service  of  the  ship's  officers  and  crew  in  the  most 
inexpensive  manner,  in  harmony  with  the  usages  of  the  Army 
everywhere  else,  men  serving  from  love  and  not  as  a  mere  business. 
The   effect    iproduced    by    our   ship    cruising   slowly    southwards, 


A    MISSIONARY  VESSEL. 


155 


lid   be 

fficult ; 
re  free 
getting 
'orm  of 
g  about 
r  would 
iiremen, 
lave  to 
ot  work 

ts  in  the 
I  not  be 
to  find 
[vantage, 
ual  right 
lass  and 
itructions 
emselves 

ordinary 
;paration 
the  ship 
•go.  All 
In  of  per- 


ring, 


and 


lid  think 
ther,  any 
|nd  ready 
Its  them- 


testifying  to  the  reality  of  a  Salvation  for  both  worlds,  calling  at 
all  convenient  ports,  would  constitute  a  new  kind  of  mission  work, 
and  drawing  out  everywhere  a  large  amount  of  warm  practical 
sympathy.  At  present  the  influence  of  those  who  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships  is  not  always  in  favour  of  raising  the  morals  and 
religion  of  the  dwellers  in  the  places  where  they  come.  Here, 
however,  ./ould  be  one  ship  at  least  whose  appearance  foretold 
no  disorder,  gave  rise  to  no  debauchery,  and  from  whose  capacious 
hull  would  stream  forth  an  Army  of  men,  who,  instead  of  thronging 
the  grog-shops  and  other  haunts  of  licentious  indulgence,  would 
occupy  themselves  with  explaining  and  proclaiming  the  religion 
of  the  Love  of  God  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man. 


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jiember  of 
Irested  in 
le  should 
the  most 
lie  Army 
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CHAPTER  V. 


MORE    CRUSADES. 


I  have  now  sketched  out  briefly  the  leading  features  of  the  three- 
fold Scheme  by  which  I  think  a  way  can  be  opened  out  of  "  Darkest 
England,"  by  which  ii,s  lorlorn  den'zens  can  escape  into  the  light  and 
freedom  of  a  new  life.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  make  a  clear  broad 
road  out  of  the  heart  of  this  dense  and  matted  jungle  forest ;  its 
inhabitants  are  in  many  cases  so  degraded,  so  hopeless,  so  utterly 
desperate  that  we  shall  have  to  do  something  more  than  make  roads. 
As  we  read  in  the  parable,  it  is  often  not  enough  that  the  feast  be 
prepared,  and  the  guests  be  bidden ;  we  must  needs  go  into  the  high- 
ways and  byways  and  compel  them  to  come  in.  So  it  is  not  enough 
to  provide  our  City  Colony  and  our  Farm  Colony,  and  then  rest  on 
our  oars  as  if  we  had  done  our  work.  That  kind  of  thing  will  not 
save  the  Lost. 

it  is  necessary  to  organise  rescue  expeditions  to  free  the  miserable 
wanderers  from  tlicir  captivity,  and  bring  them  out  into  the  larger 
liberty  and  the  fuller  life.  Talk  about  Stanley  and  Emin  !  There  is 
not  one  of  us  but  has  an  Emin  somewhere  or  other  in  the  heart  of 
Darkest  England,  whom  he  ouglit  to  sally  forth  to  rescue.  Our  Emins 
have  the  Devil  for  their  Mahdi,  and  when  we  get  to  them  we  find 
that  it  is  their  friends  and  neighbours  who  hold  them  back,  and  they 
are,  oh,  so  irresolute!  It  needs  each  of  us  to  be  as  indomitable  as 
Stanley,  to  burst  through  all  obstacles,  to  force  our  way  right  to  the 
centre  of  things,  and  then  to  labour  with  the  poor  prisoner  of  vice 
and  crime  with  all  our  might.  But  had  not  the  Expeditionary 
Committee  furnished  the  financial  means  whereby  a  road  was  opened  to 
the  sea,  both  Stanley  and  Emin  would  probably  have  been  in  the 
heart  of  Darkest  Africa  to  this  day.  This  Scheme  is  our  Stanley 
Expedition.     The  analogy  is  very  close.     I  propose  to  make  a  road 


^  I  i 


A    NEW    STANLEY    FOR    ANOTHER    EMIN. 


15f 


clear  down  to  the  sea.  But  alas  our  poor  Emin  !  Even  when  the 
road  is  open,  he  halts  and  lingers  and  doubts.  First  he  will,  and 
then  he  won't,  and  nothing  less  than  the  irresistible  pressure  of  a 
friendly  and  stronger  purpose  will  constrain  him  to  take  the  road 
which  has  been  opened  for  him  at  such  a  cost  of  blood  and  treasure. 
I  now,  therefore,  proceed  to  sketch  some  of  the  methods  by  which 
we  shall  attempt  to  save  the  lost  and  to  rescue  those  who  are 
perishing  in  the  midst  of  "  Darkest  England." 


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Section  i.— A  SLUM  CRUSADE— OUR  SLUM  SISTERS. 

When  Professor  Huxley  lived  as  a  medical  officer  in  the  East  of 
London  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  actual  condition  of  the  life 
uf  many  of  its  populace  which  led  him  long  afterwards  to  declare 
that  the  surroundings  of  the  savages  of  New  Guinea  were  much 
more  conducive  to  the  leading  of  a  decent  human  existence  than 
those  in  which  many  of  the  East-Enders  live.  Alas,  it  is  not  only 
in  London  that  such  lairs  exist  in  which  the  savages  of  civilisation 
lurk  and  brrcd.  All  the  great  towns  in  both  tlie  Old  World  and  the 
New  have  their  slums,  in  which  huddle  together,  in  festering  and 
verminous  filth,  men,  women,  and  children.  They  correspond  to 
the  lepers  wlio  thronged  the  lazar  houses  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

As  in  tliose  days  St.  Francis  of  Assissi  and  the  heroir  band  of 
saints  who  gatiiercd  under  his  orders  were  wont  to  go  and  lodge 
with  the  lepers  at  the  city  gates,  so  the  devoted  souls  who  have 
enlisted  in  the  Salvation  Army  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  heart  of 
the  worst  slums.  But  whereas  the  Friars  were  men,  our  Slum 
Brigade  is  composed  of  women.  I  have  a  hundred  of  them  under 
my  orders,  young  women  for  the  most  part,  quartered  all  of  them  in 
outposts  in  the  heart  of  the  Devil's  country.  Most  of  them  are  the 
ciiildren  of  the  poor  who  have  known  hardship  from  their  youth  up. 
.Some  are  ladies  born  and  bred,  who  have  not  been  afraid  to 
exchange  the  comfort  of  a  West  End  drawing-room  for  service 
among  the  vilest  of  the  vile,  and  a  residence  in  small  and  fetid 
rooms  whose  walls  were  infested  with  vermin.  They  live  the  life  of  the 
Crucified  for  the  sake  of  the  men  and  women  for  whom  He  lived  and 
died.  They  form  one  of  the  branches  of  the  activity  of  the  Army 
upon  which  I  dwell  with  deepest  sympathy.  They  are  at  the  front ; 
they  are  at  close  quarters  with  the  enemy. 

To  the  dwellers   in  decent  homes  who  occupy  cushioned  pews  in 
fashionable  churches  there  is  something  strange  and  quaint  in  the 


THE    SISTERS    OF    THE   SLUM. 


159 


language  they  I'car  read  from  tlie  Bible,  language  which  habitually 
refers  to  the  Devil  as  an  actual  persoi.ality,  and  to  the  struggle 
against  sin  and  uncleaniK  ss  as  if  it  were  .i  hand  to  hand  death 
wrestle  with  the  legions  of  1  lell.  To  our  little  sisters  who  dwell  in 
an  atmosphere  h(  avy  with  curses,  amon},^  people  sodden  with  think, 
in  quarters  where  sin  and  uiu  l(  mness  are  universal,  all  these 
Biblical  sayings  are  as  real  as  the  (juotations  of  yesterday's  price  of 
Consols  are  to  a  City  man.  They  dwell  in  the  midst  of  Hell,  and  in 
tlieir  daily  warfare  with  a  hun  hed  devils  it  seems  incredible  to  them 
that  anyone  can  doubt  t\<  ;  existence  of  either  ont  or  the  other. 

The  Slum  Sister  is  what  her  name  implies,  the  Sister  of  the  Slum. 
They  go  forth  in  Apostolic  lashion,  two-antUtwo  living  in  i  couple  of 
the  same  kind  of  dens  or  rooms  as  are  occupicfi  b'-  the  people 
themselves,  differing  only  in  the  cleanliness  and  order,  and  the  few 
articles  of  furniture  which  they  contain.  Here  they  live  all  the  year 
round,  visiting  the  sick,  looking  after  the  childnn,  showing  the 
women  how  to  keep  themselves  and  their  homes  decent,  often 
discharging  the  sick  mother's  duties  themselves  ;  cultivating  peace, 
advocating  temperance,  counselling  in  tcmi  Dralities,  and  ceaselessly 
preaching  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  to  the  Outcasts  of  Society. 

I  do  not  like  to  speak  of  their  work.  Words  fail  me  and  what  I 
say  is  so  unworthy  the  theme.  I  prefer  to  quote  two  descriptions  by 
Journalists  who  have  sern  tiiesc  girls  at  work  in  the  field.  The  first 
is  taken  from  a  long  article  which  Julia  Mayes  Percy  contributed  to 
the  New  York  World,  describing  a  visit  paid  by  her  to  the  slum 
quarters  of  the  Salvation  Army  in  Cherry  Hill  Alleys,  in  the 
Whitechapel  of  New  York. 

Twenty-four  hours  in  the  slums — just  a  ni^lit  and  a  clay — yet  into  them  were 
crowded  such  revelations  of  misery,  depravity,  and  degradation  as  having  once 
been  gazed  upon  life  can  never  be  the  same  afterwards.  Aroiuid  and  above 
this  blighted  neighbourhood  flows  the  tid'  of  active,  prosperous  life.  Men  and 
women  travel  past  in  street  cars  hy  the  F.uvated  Railroad  and  across  the  bridge, 
and  take  no  thought  of  its  wretchedness,  of  the  criminals  bred  there,  and  of 
the  disease  engendered  by  its  foulness.  It  is  a  fearful  menace  to  the  public 
health,  both  moral  and  physical,  yet  the  multitude  is  as  heedless  of  danger  as 
the  peasant  who  makes  his  house  and  plants  green  vineyards  and  olives  above 
Vesuvian  fires.  We  are  almost  as  careless  and  quite  as  unknowing  as  we  pass 
the  bridge  in  the  late  afternoon. 

Our  immediate  destination  is  the    Salvation   Army   Barracks    in   Washing- 
ton    Street,    and     we    are     going    finally    to    the     Salvation    Officers— two 


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33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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A   SLUM    CRUSADE. 


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young  women — who  have  been  dwelling  and  uuing  a  noble  mission 
work  for  months  in  one  of  the  worst  corners  of  New  York's  most 
wretched  quarter.  These  Officers  are  not  living  under  the  eegis  of  the 
Army,  however.  The  blue  bordered  flag  is  furled  out  of  sight,  the 
uniforms  and  poke  bonnets  are  laid  away,  and  there  are  no  drums  or  tam- 
bourines. "  The  banner  over  them  is  love  "  of  their  fellow-creatures  among 
whom  they  dwell  upon  an  equal  plane  of  poverty,  wearing  no  better  clothes 
than  the  rest,  eating  coarse  and  scanty  food,  and  sleeping  upon  hard  cots  or 
upon  the  floor.  Their  lives  are  consecrated  to  God's  service  among  the  poor  ol 
the  earth.  One  is  a  woman  in  the  early  prime  of  vigorous  life,  the  other  a  girl 
of  eighteen.  The  elder  of  these  devoted  women  is  awaiting  us  at  the  barracks 
to  be  our  guide  to  Slumdom.  She  is  tall,  slender,  and  clad  in  a  coarse  brown 
gown,  mended  with  patches.  A  big  gingham  apron,  artistically  rent  in  several 
places,  is  tied  about  her  waist.  She  wears  on  old  plaid  woollen  shawl  and  an 
ancient  brown  straw  hat.  Her  dress  indicates  extreme  poverty,  her  face  denotes 
perfect  peace.  "  This  is  Em,"  says  Mrs.  Ballington  Booth,  and  after  this  intro- 
duction we  sally  forth. 

More  and  more  wretched  grows  the  district  as  we  penetrate  further. 
Em  pauses  before  a  dirty,  broken,  smoke-dimmed  window,  through  which 
in  a  dingy  room  are  seen  a  party  of  roughs,  dark-looking  men,  drinking 
and  squabbling  at  a  table.  "  They  are  our  neighbours  in  the  front." 
We  enter  the  hall-way  and  proceed  to  the  rear  room.  It  is  tiny,  but  clean  and 
warm.  A  Are  burns  on  the  little  cracked  stove,  which  stands  up  bravely  on 
three  legs,  with  a  brick  eking  out  its  support  at  the  fourth  corner.  A  tin  lamp 
stands  on  the  table,  half-a-dozen  chairs,  one  of  which  has  arms,  but  must  have 
renounced  its  rockers  long  ago,  and  a  packing  box,  upon  which  we  deposit  our 
shawls,  constitute  the  furniture.  Opening  from  this  is  a  small  dark  bedroom, 
with  one  cot  made  up  and  another  folded  against  the  wall.  Against  a  door, 
which  must  communicate  with  the  front  room,  in  which  we  saw  the  disagree- 
able-looking men  si>.Jng,  is  a  wooden  table  for  the  hand-basin.  A  small  trunk 
and  a  barrel  of  clothing  complete  the  inventory. 

Em's  sister  in  the  slum  work  gives  uc  a  sweet  shy  welcome.  She  is  a 
Swedish  girl,  with  the  fair  complexion  and  crisp,  bright  hair  peculiar  to  the 
Scandinavian  blonde-type.  Her  head  reminds  me  of  a  Grenze  that  hangs  in  the 
Louvre,  with  its  low  knot  ol  rippling  hair,  which  fluffs  out  from  her  brow  and 
frames  a  dear  little  face  with  soft  childish  outlines,  a  nez  retrousse,  a  tiny  mouth, 
like  a  crushed  pink  rose,  and  wistful  blue  eyes.  This  girl  has  been  a  Sal- 
vationist for  two  years.  During  that  time  she  has  learned  to  speak,  read,  and 
write  English,  while  she  has  constantly  laboured  among  the  poor  and  wretched. 

The  house  where  we  find  ourselves  was  formerly  notorious  as  one  of  the 
worst  in  the  Cherry  Hill  district.    It  has  been  the  scene  of  some  memorable 


!.  Ill 


ROUND  THE  SLUMS  OF  NEW  YORK. 


161 


mission 
's    most 
i  of  '.he 
ght,    the 
1  or  tam- 
;s  among 
;r  clothes 
d  cots  or 
le  poor  ot 
her  a  girl 
B  barracks 
rse  brown 
in  several 
wl  and  an 
ice  denotes 
•this  intro- 

ite    further. 

DUgh  which 

n,   drinking 
the    front." 

it  clean  and 

bravely  on 

A  tin  lamp 

it  must  have 

deposit  our 

rk  bedroom, 

inst  a  door, 

he  disagree- 

small  trunk 

She  is  a 
culiar  to  the 
hangs  in  the 
ler  brow  and 
a  tiny  mouth, 
been  a  Sal- 
;ak,  read,  and 
ind  wretched, 
one  of  the 
le  memorable 


crimes,  and  among  them  that  of  the  Chinaman  who  slew  his  Irish  wife,  after 
the  manner  of  "Jack  the  Ripper,"  on  the  staircase  leading  to  the  second  floor. 
A  notable  change  has  taken  place  in  the  tenement  since  Mattie  and  Em  hav6 
lived  there,  and  their  gentle  influence  is  making  itself  feit  in  the  neighbouring 
houses  as  well.  It  is  nearly  eight  o'clock  when  we  sally  forth.  Each  of  us 
carries  a  handful  of  printed  slips  bearing  a  text  of  Scripture  aud  a  few  words 
of  V  irning  to  lead  the  batter  life. 

"  These  furnish  an  excuse  for  entering  places  where  otherwise  we  could  not 
go,"  explains  Em. 

After  arranging  a  rendezvous,  we  separate.  Mattie  and  Liz  go  off  in  one 
direction,  and  Em  and  I  in  another.  From  this  our  progress  seems  like  a 
descent  into  Tartarus.  Em  pauses  before  a  miserable-looking  saloon,  pushes 
open  the  low,  swinging  door,  and  we  go  in.  It  is  a  low-ceiled  room,  dingy  with 
dirt,  dim  with  the  smoke,  nauseating  with  the  fumes  of  sour  beer  and  vile 
liqucy.  A  sloppy  bar  extends  along  one  side,  and  opposite  is  a  long  table,  with 
indescribable  viands  littered  over  it,  interspersed  with  empty  glasses,  battered 
hats,  and  cigai-  stumps.  A  motley  crowd  of  men  and  women  jostle  ie  the 
narrow  space.  Em  speaks  to  the  soberest  looking  of  the  lot.  He  listens  to 
her  words,  others  crowd  about.  Many  accept  the  slips  we  offer,  and  gradually, 
as  the  throng  separates  to  make  way,  we  gain  the  further  end  of  the  apartment. 
Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint-like  face  I  follow  like  a  star.  All  sense  of  fear  slips 
from  me,  and  a  great  pity  Alls  my  soul  as  I  look  upon  the  various  types  oi 
wretchedness. 

As  the  night  wears  on,  the  whole  apartment  seems  to  wake  up.  Every  house  is 
alight ;  the  narrow  sidewalks  and  filthy  streets  are  full  of  people.  Miserable 
little  children,  with  sin-stamped  faces,  dart  about  like  rats ;  little  ones  who 
ought  to  be  in  their  cribs  shift  for  themselves,  and  sleep  on  cellar  doors  and 
areas,  and  under  carts  ;  a  few  vendors  are  abroad  with  their  wares,  but  the  most 
of  the  traffic  going  on  is  of  a  different  description.  Along  Water  Street  are 
women  conspicuously  dressed  in  gaudy  colours.  Their  heavily-painted  faces 
are  bloated  or  pinched  ;  they  shiver  in  the  raw  night  air.  Liz  speaks  to  one, 
who  replies  that  she  would  like  to  talk,  but  dare  not,  and  as  she  says  this  an 
old  hag  comes  to  the  door  and  cries  : — 

"  Get  along  ;  don't  hinder  her  work  !  " 

During  the  evening  a  man  to  whom  Em  has  been  talking  has  told  her : — 

"  You  ought  to  join  the  Salvation  Army ;  they  are  tlie  only  good  women  who 
bother  us  down  here.  I  dont  want  to  lead  that  sort  of  life ;  but  I  must  go 
where  it  is  light  and  warm  and  clean  after  working  all  day,  and  there  isn't  any 
place  but  this  to  come  to  "  exclaimed  the  man. 

"You  will  appreciate  the  plea  to-morrow  when  you  see  how  the  people  live," 
Em  says,  as  we  turn  our  steps  toward  the  tenement  room,  whick  seems  like  aa 

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1 

1 

1 

I 

oasis  of  peace  and  purity  after  the  howling  desert  we  have  been  wandering  in. 
Em  and  Mattie  brew  some  oatmeal  gruel,  and  being  chilled  and  faint  we  en- 
joyed a  cup  of  it.  Liz  and  I  share  a  cot  in  the  outer  room.  We  are  just  going 
to  sleep  when  agonised  cries  ring  out  through  the  night ;  then  the  tones  of  a 
woman's  voice  pleading  pitifully  reach  our  ears.  We  are  unable  to  distinguish 
her  words,  but  the  sound  is  heart-rending.  It  comes  from  one  of  those  dreadful 
Water  Street  houses,  and  we  all  feel  that  a  tragedy  is  taking  place.  There  is  a 
sound  of  crashing  blows  and  then  silence. 

It  is  customary  in  the  slums  to  leave  the  house  door  open  perpetually,  which 
is  convenient  for  tramps,  who  creep  into  the  hall-ways  to  sleep  at  night,  thereby 
saving  the  few  pence  it  costs  to  occupy  a  "  spot  "  in  the  cheap  lodging  houses. 
Em  and  Mat  keep  the  corridor  without  their  room  beautifully  clean,  and  so  it  has 
become  an  especial  favourite  stamping  ground  for  these  vagrants.  We  were  told 
this  when  Mattie  locked  and  bolted  the  door  and  then  tied  the  keys  and  the  door- 
handle together.  So  we  understand  why  there  are  shufQing  steps  aloi2g  the 
corridor,  bumping  against  the  panels  of  the  door,  and  heavily  breathing  without 
during  the  long  hours  of  the  night. 

All  day  Em  and  Mat  have  been  toiling  among  their  neighbours,  and  the  night 
before  last  they  sat  up  with  a  dying  woman.  They  are  worn  out  and  sleep 
heavily.  Liz  and  I  lie  awake  and  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  morning ;  we  are 
too  oppressed  by  what  we  have  seen  and  heard  to  talk. 

In  the  morning  Liz  and  I  peep  over  into  the  rear  houses  where  we  heard 
those  dreadful  shrieks  in  the  night.  There  is  no  sign  of  life,  but  we  discover 
enough  filth  to  breed  diphtheria  and  typhoid  throughout  a  large  section.  In  the 
area  below  our  window  there  are  several  inches  of  stagnant  water,  in  which  is 
heaped  a  mass  of  old  shoes,  cabbage  heads,  garbage,  rotten  wood,  bones,  rags 
and  refuse,  and  a  few  dead  rats.  We  understand  now  why  Em  keeps  her  room 
ull  of  disinfectants.  She  tells  us  that  she  dare  not  make  any  appeal  to  the 
sanitary  authorities,  either  on  behalf  of  their  own  or  any  other  dwelling,  for  fear 
of  antagonizing  the  people,  who  consider  such  officials  as  their  natural  enemies. 

The  first  visit  we  pay  is  up  a  number  of  eccentric  little  flights  of  shaky  steps 
interspersed  with  twists  of  passageway.  The  floor  is  full  of  holes.  The  stairs 
have  been  patched  here  and  there,  but  look  perilous  and  sway  beneath  the  feet, 
A  low  door  on  the  landing  is  opened  by  a  bundle  of  rags  and  filth,  out  of  which 
issues  a  woman's  voice  in  husky  tones,  bidding  us  enter.  She  has  La  grippe. 
We  have  to  stand  very  close  together,  for  the  room  is  small,  and  already 
contams  three  women,  a  man,  a  baby,  a  bedstead,  a  stove,  and  indescribable 
dirt.  The  atmosphere  is  rank  with  impurity.  The  man  is  evidently  dying. 
Seven  weeks  ago  he  was  "  gripped."  He  is  now  in  the  last  stages  of  pneumonia. 
Em  has  tried  to  induce  him  to  be  removed  to  the  hospital,  and  he  gasps  out  his 
desire  "  to  die  in  comfort  in  my  own  bed."  Comfort !  The  "  bed  "  is  a  rack 
heaped  with  rags.     Sheets,  pillow-cases,  and  night-clothes  are  not  in  vogue  in 


DIRT,    DRINK,    AND    DEATH. 


163 


!  '  ' ' 


the  slums.  A  woman  lies  asleep  on  the  dirty  floor  with  her  head  under  the 
table.  Another  woman,  who  has  been  sharing  the  night  uatch  with  the  invalid's 
wife,  is  finishing  her  morning  meal,  in  which  roast  oysters  on  the  half  shell  are 
conspicuous.  A  child  that  appears  never  to  have  been  washed  toddles  about 
the  floor  and  tumbles  over  the  sleeping  woman's  form.  Em  gives  it  some  gruel, 
and  ascertains  that  its  name  is  "  Christine." 

The  dirt,  crowding,  and  smells  in  the  first  place  are  characteristic  ot  half  a 
dozen  others  we  visited.  We  penetrate  to  garrets  and  descend  into  cellars. 
The  "  rear  houses "  are  particularly  dreadful.  Everywhere  there  is  decaying 
garbage  lying  about,  and  the  dead  cats  and  rats  are  evidence  that  there  are 
mighty  hunters  among  the  gamins  of  the  Fourth  Ward.  We  find  a  number  ill 
from  the  grip  and  consequent  maladies.  None  of  the  sufferers  will  entertain 
the  thought  of  seeking  a  hospital.  One  probably  voices  the  opinion  of  the 
majority  when  he  declares  that  "  they'll  wash  you  to  death  there."  For  these 
people  a  bath  possesses  more  terror  than  the  gallows  or  the  grave. 

In  one  r^  om,  with  a  wee  window,  lies  a  woman  dying  of  consumption  ;  wasted, 
wan,  and  wretched,  lying  on  rags  and  swarming  with  vermin.  Her  little  son, 
a  boy  of  eight  years,  nestles  beside  her.  His  cheeks  are  scarlet,  his  eyes 
feverishly  bright,  and  he  has  a  hard  cou£;' .. 

"  It's  the  chills,  mum,"  says  the  little  chap. 

Six  beds  stand  ck  se  together  in  another  room  ;  one  is  empty.  Three  days 
ago  a  woman  died  there  and  the  body  has  just  been  taken  away.  It  hasn't 
disturbed  the  rest  of  the  inmates  to  have  death  present  there.  A  woman  is 
lying  on  the  wrecks  of  a  bedstead,  slats  and  posts  sticking  out  in  every  direction 
from  the  rags  on  which  she  reposes. 

"  It  broke  under  me  in  the  night,"  she  explain;..  A  woman  is  sick  and  wants 
Liz  to  say  a  prayer.  We  kneel  on  the  filthy  floor.  Soon  all  my  faculties  are 
absorbed  in  speculating  which  will  arrive  first,  the  "Amen"  or  the  "B  flat" 
which  is  wending  its  way  towards  me.  This  time  the  bug  does  not  get  there, 
and  I  enjoy  grinding  him  under  the  sole  of  my  Slum  shoe  when  the  prayer  is 
ended. 

In  another  room  we  find  what  looks  like  a  corpse.  It  is  a  woman  in  an  opium 
stupor.     Drunken  men  are  brawling  around  her. 

Returning  to  our  tenement,  Em  and  Liz  meet  us,  and  we  return  to  our  experi- 
ence. The  minor  details  vary  slightly,  but  the  story  is  the  same  piteous  tale  of 
woe  everywhere,  and  crime  abounding,  conditions  which  only  change  to  a  prison, 
a  plunge  in  the  river,  or  the  Potter's  field. 

The  Dark  Continent  can  show  no  lower  depth  ot  degradation  than  that 
sounded  by  the  dwellers  of  the  dark  alleys  in  Cherry  Hill.  There  isn't  a  vice 
missing  in  that  quarter.  Every  sin  in  the  Decalogue  flourishes  in  that  feeder  of 
penitentiaries  and  prisons.    And  even  as  its  moral  foulness  permeates  and 


hV' 


'  1   I 


;<    ;! 


^f!i; 


r' !  !!■   I 


MT 


164 


A  SLUM    CRUSADE. 


■1^^   . 


poisons  the  veins  of  our  social  life  so  the  malarial  filth  with  which  the  locality 
reeks  must  sooner  or  later  spread  disease  and  death. 

An  awful  picture,  truly,  but  one  which  is  to  me  irradiated  with  the 
love-light  which  shone  in  the  eyes  of  *'  Em's  serious,  sweet,  saint- 
like face." 

Here  is  my  second.  It  was  written  by  a  Journalist  who  had  just 
witnessed  the  scene  in  Whitechapel.     He  writes  : — 

I  had  just  passed  Mr.  Barnett's  church  when  I  was  stopped  by  a  small  crowd 
at  a  street  corner.  There  were  about  thirty  or  forty  men,  women,  and  children 
standing  loosely  together,  some  others  were  lounging  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street  round  the  door  of  a  public-house.  In  the  centre  of  the  crowd  was  a 
plain-looking  little  woman  in  Salvation  Army  uniform,  with  her  eyes  closed, 
praying  the  "  dear  Lord  that  he  would  bless  these  dear  people,  and  save  them, 
save  them  now ! "  Moved  by  curiosity,  I  pressed  through  the  outer  fringe  of 
the  crowd,  and  in  doing  so,  I  noticed  a  woman  of  another  kind,  also  invoking 
Heaven,  but  in  an  altogether  different  fashion.  Two  dirty  tranp-like  men 
were  listening  to  the  prayer,  standing  the  while  smoking  their  short  cutty 
pipes.  For  some  reason  or  other  they  had  offended  the  woman,  and  she 
was  giving  them  a  piece  of  her  mind.  They  stood  stolidly  silent  while  she  went 
at  them  like  a  fiend.  She  had  been  good-looking  once,  but  was  now  horribly 
bloated  with  drink,  and  excited  by  passion.  I  heard  both  voices  at  the 
same  time.  What  a  contrast !  The  prayer  was  o>  er  now,  and  a  pleading  earnest 
address  was  being  delivered. 

"You  are  wrong,"  said  the  voice  in  the  centre  "you  know  you  are;  all 
this  misery  and  poverty  is  a  proof  of  it.  You  are  prodigals.  You  have  got 
away  from  your  Father's  house,  and  you  are  rebelling  against  Him  every  day. 
Can  you  wonder  that  there  is  so  much  hunger,  and  oppression,  and  wretched- 
ness allowed  to  come  upon  you  ?  In  the  midst  of  it  all  your  Father  loves  you. 
He  wants  you  to  return  to  Him ;  to  turn  your  backs  upon  your  sins ;  abandon 
your  evil  doings  ;  give  up  the  drink  and  the  service  of  the  devil.  He  has  given 
His  Son  Jesus  Christ  to  die  for  you.  He  wants  to  save  you.  Come  to  His  feet. 
He  is  waiting.  His  arms  are  open.  I  know  the  devil  has  got  fast  hold  ot 
you ;  but  Jesus  will  give  you  grace  to  conquer  him.  He  will  help  you  to 
master  your  wicked  habits  and  your  love  of  drink.  But  come  to  Him  now.  God  is 
love.  He  loves  me.  He  loves  you.  He  loves  us  all.  He  wants  to  save  us  all." 
Clear  and  strong  the  voice,  eloquent  with  the  fervour  of  intense 
feeling,  rang  through  the  little  crowd,  past  which  streamed  the  ever- 
flowing  tide  of  East  End  life.  And  at  the  same  time  that  I  heard 
this  pure  and  passionate  invocation  to  love  God  and  be  true  to  man  I  heard 

a  voice  on   the  outskirts,  and  it  said   this :  "  You swine  1   I'll   knock 

the   vitals  out  of  yer.     None   of  your  impudence    to    me.    


he  locality 

with  the 
;et,  saint- 

>  had  just 

small  crowd 
nd  children 
)site  side  of 
:rowd  was  a 
eyes  closed, 
i  save  them, 
ter  fringe  of 
Iso  invoking 
rip-like  men 
r  short  cutty 
lan,  and  she 
hile  she  went 
now  horribly 
roices  at  the 
ading  earnest 


you  are; 


all 


You  have  got 
im  every  day. 
nd  wretched- 
her  loves  you. 
sins;  abandon 
He  has  given 
ne  to  His  feet, 
fast  hold  ot 
1  help  you  to 
n  now.  God  is 
to  save  us  all." 
ur   of  intense 
med   the  ever- 
that    I    heard 
to  man  I  heard 
nel   I'll  knock 
me. 


^ 


AT    A    SLUM    POST. 


165 


your eyes,  what  do  you  mean  by  telling  me  tliat  ?    You  know  what  you 

ha'  done,  and  now  you  are  going  to  the  Salvation  Army.  I'll  let  them  know  you, 
you  dirty  rascal"    The  man  shifted  his  pipe.    "What's  the  matter?"    "Matter!" 

screamed  the  virago  hoarsely.   " yerliie.don'tyouknowwhat'sthematter ? 

I'll  matter  ye,  you hound.    By  God  !  I  will,  as  sure  as  I'm  alive.  Matter  I 

you  know  what's  the  matter."  And  so  she  went  on,  the  men  standing  silently 
smoking  until  at  last  she  took  herself  off,  her  mouth  full  of  oaths  and  cursing,  to 
the  public-house.  It  seemed  as  though  the  presence,  and  nirit,  and  words  of 
the  Officer, who  still  went  on  with  the  message  of  mercy,  ha  ome  strange  effect 
upon  them,  which  made  these  poor  wretches  impervious  U  'e  taunting,  bittei 
sarcasms  of  this  brazen,  blatant  virago. 

"  God  is  love."  Was  it  not,  then,  the  accents  of  God's  voice  that 
sounded  there  above  the  din  of  the  street  and  the  swearing  of  the 
slums?  Yea,  verily,  and  that  voice  ceases  not  and  will  not  cease,  so 
long  as  the  Slum  Sisters  fight  under  the  banner  of  the  Salvation 
Army. 

To  form  an  idea  ot  the  immense  amount  of  good,  temporal  and 
spiritual,  which  the  Slum  Sister  is  doing  ;  you  need  to  follow  thera 
into  the  kennels  where  they  live,  preaching  the  Gospel  with  the  mop 
and  the  scrubbing  brush,  and  driving  out  the  devil  with  soap  and 
water.  In  one  oi  our  Slum  posts,  where  the  Officer's  rooms  were  on  the 
ground  floor,  about  fourteen  other  iamilies  lived  in  the  same  house. 
One  little  water-closet  in  the  back  yard  had  to  do  service  for  the 
whole  place.  As  for  the  dirt,  one  Officer  writes,  "  It  is  impossible  to 
scrub  the  Homes  ;  some  oi  them  are  in  such  a  filthy  condition.  When 
they  have  a  fire  the  ashes  are  lett  to  accumulate  for  days.  The 
table  is  very  seldom,  if  ever,  properly  cleaned,  dirty  cups  and 
saucers  lie  about  it,  together  with  bits  of  bread,  and  if  they  have 
bloaters  the  bones  and  heads  are  left  on  the  table.  Sometimes  there  are 
pieces  of  onions  mixed  up  with  the  rest.  The  floors  are  in 
a  very  much  worse  condition  than  the  street  pavements,  and  when 
they  are  supposed  to  clean  them  they  do  it  with  about  a  pint  of  dirty 
water.  When  they  wash,  which  is  rarely,  for  washing  to  them 
seems  an  unnecessary  work,  they  do  it  in  a  quart  *or  two  of  water, 
and  sometimes  boil  the  things  in  some  old  saucepan  in  which  they 
cook  their  food.  They  do  this  simply  because  they  have  no  larger 
vessel  to  wash  in.  The  vermin  fall  off  the  walls  and  ceiling  on  you 
while  you  are  standing  in  the  rooms.  Some  of  the  walls  are  covered 
with  marks  where  they  have  killed  them.  Many  people  in  the 
summer  sit  on  the  door  steps  all  night,  the  reason  for  this  being,  that 


ill^ 


I'll 


5:.ia''.:i 


?-ih 


166 


A    SLUM    CRUSADE. 


1 


I 

r.  •' 

r; 


fll    :::i:! 


pl 


m 

'  li! 


I.f-      •*  ■      I!    v;:|| 


ill . 


their  rooms  are  so  close  from  the  lieat  and  so  unendurable  from  the 
vermin  that  they  prefer  staying  out  in  the  cool  night  air.  But  as 
they  cannot  stay  anywhere  long  without  drinking,  they  send  for  beer 
from  the  neighbouring  public — alas  !  nf  ver  far  away — and  pass  it  from 
one  doorway  to  another,  the  result  being  singing,  shouting  and  fight- 
ing up  till  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

I  could  fill  volumes  with  stories  of  the  war  against  vermin,  which 
is  part  of  this  campaign  in  the  slums,  but  the  subject  is  too  revolting 
to  those  who  are  often  indifferent  to  the  agonies  their  fellow  creatures 
suffer,  so  long  as  their  sensitive  ears  are  not  shocked  by  the  mention 
of  so  painful  a  subject.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  sample  of  the  kind 
of  region  in  which  the  Slum  Sisters  spend  themselves : — 

"  In  an  apparently  respectable  street  near  Oxford  street,  the  Officers 
wh  re  visiting  one  day  when  they  saw  a  very  dark  staircase  leading 
into  a  cellar,  and  thinking  it  possible  that  someone  might  be  there 
they  attempted  to  go  down,  and  yet  the  staircase  was  so  dark  they 
thought  it  impossible  for  anyone  to  be  there.  However,  they  tried 
again  and  groped  their  way  along  in  the  dark  for  some  time  until  at 
last  they  found  the  door  and  entered  the  room.  At  first  they  could 
not  discern  anything  because  of  the  darkness.  But  after  they  got 
used  to  it  they  saw  a  filthy  room.  There  was  no  fire  in  the  grate,  but 
the  fire-place  was  heaped  up  with  ashes,  an  accumulation  of  several 
weeks  at  least.  At  one  end  of  the  room  there  was  an  old  sack  of 
rags  and  bones  partly  emptied  upon  the  floor,  from  which  there  came 
a  most  unpleasant  odour.  At  the  other  end  lay  an  old  man  very  ill. 
The  apology  for  a  bed  on  which  he  lay  was  filthy  and  had  neither 
sheets  nor  blankets.  His  covering  consisted  of  old  rags.  His  poor 
wife,  who  attended  on  him,  appeared  to  be  a  stranger  to  soap  and 
water.  These  Slum  Sisters  nursed  the  old  people,  and  on  one 
occasion  undertook  to  do  their  washing,  and  they  brought  it  heme  to 
their  copper  for  this  purpose,  but  it  was  so  infested  with  vermin  that 
they  did  not  know  how  to  wash  it.  Their  landlady,  who  happened 
to  see  them,  forbade  them  ever  to  bring  such  stuff  there  any  more. 
The  old  man,  when  well  enough,  worked  at  his  trade,  which  was 
tailoring.  They  had  two  shillings  and  sixpence  per  week  from  the 
parish." 

Here  is  a  report  from  the  headquarters  of  our  Slum  Brigade  as  to 
the  work  which  the  Slum  Sisters  have  done. 

It   is  almost   four  years   since  the  Slum  Work  was  staned  in 
London.     The  principal  work  done  by  our  first  Officers  was  that  of 


SOME    SLUM    TROPHIES. 


167 


visiting  the  sick,  cleansing  the  homes  of  the  Slummers,  and  of 
feeding  the  hungry.  The  following  are  a  few  of  the  cases  of  those 
who  have  gained  temporally,  as  well  as  spiritually,  through  our 
work : — 

Mrs.  W. — Of  Haggerston  Slum.  Heavy  drinker,  wrecked  home,  husband 
a  drunkard,  place  dirty  and  filthy,  terribly  poor.  Saved  now  over  two  years, 
home  Ai.,  plenty  of  employment  at  cane-chair  bottoming;  husband  now  saved 
also. 

Mrs.  R. — Drury  Lane  Slum.  Husband  and  wife,  drunkards ;  husband  very 
lazy,  only  worked  when  starved  into  it.  We  found  them  both  out  of  work, 
home  furnitureless,  in  debt.  She  got  saved,  and  our  lasses  prayed  for  him  to  get 
work.  He  did  so,  and  went  to  it.  He  fell  out  again  a  few  weeks  after,  and  beat  his 
wife.  She  sought  employment  at  charing  and  office  cleaning,  got  it,  and  has 
been  regularly  at  work  since.  He  too  got  work.  He  is  now  a  teetotaler.  The 
home  is  very  comfortable  now,  and  they  are  putting  money  in  the  bank. 

A.  M.  in  the  Dials.  Was  a  great  drunkard,  thriftless,  did  not  go  to  the 
trouble  of  seeking  work.  Was  in  a  Slum  meeting,  heard  the  Captain  speak  on 
"  Seek  first  the  Kingdom  of  God !  "  called  out  and  said,  "  Do  you  mean  that  if  I 
ask  God  for  work,  He  will  give  it  me  ?  "  Of  course  she  said,  "  Yes."  He  was 
converted  that  night,  found  work,  and  is  now  employed  in  the  Gas  Works,  Old 
Kent  Road. 

Jimmy  is  a  soldier  in  the  Boro'  Slum.  Was  starving  when  he  got  co.iverted 
through  being  out  of  work.  Through  joining  the  Army,  he  was  turned  out  ot 
his  home.  He  found  work,  and  now  owns  a  coffee-stall  in  Billingsgate  Market, 
and  is  doing  well. 

Sergeant  R. — Of  Marylebone  Slum.  Used  to  drink,  lived  in  a  wretched 
place  in  the  famous  Charles  Street,  had  work  at  two  places,  at  one  of 
which  he  got  5s.  a  week,  and  the  other  los.,  wlien  he  got  saved ;  this  was 
starvation  wages,  on  which  to  keep  himself,  his  wife,  and  four  children.  At  the 
los.  a  week  work  he  had  to  deliver  drink  for  a  spirit  merchant ;  feeling  con- 
demned over  it,  he  gave  it  up,  and  was  out  of  work  for  weeks.  The  brokers 
were  put  in,  but  the  Lord  rescued  him  just  in  time.  The  5s.  a  week  employer 
took  him  afterwards  at  i8s.,  and  he  is  now  earning  22s.,  and  has  left  the  ground- 
floor  Slum  tenement  for  a  better  house. 

H. — Nine  Elms  Slum.  Was  saved  on  Easter  Monday,  out  of  work 
several  weeks  before,  is  a  labourer,  seems  very  earnest,  in  terrible  distress. 
We  allow  his  wife  2s.  6d.  a  week  for  cleaning  the  hall  (to  help  them).  In 
addition  to  that,  she  gets  another  2s.  6d.  lor  nursing,  and  on  that  husband,  wife, 
and  a  couple  of  children  pay  the  rent  of  2s.  a  week  and  drag  out  an  existence. 
I  have  tried  to  get  work  for  this  man,  but  have  failed. 


i|:' 


I  '■  ' 

1: 


t 


h 


'  ij 


t; 


168 


A    SLUM    CRUSADE. 


. »  ?l 


».  ' 


!■  1 

t     » 
t 

1 

\  • 

h. 

1 

ll^ 


T. — Of  Rotherhithe  Slum.  Was  a  great  drunkard,  is  a  carpenter ;  saved 
•bout  nine  months  ago,  but,  having  to  woric  in  a  public-iiouse  on  a  Sunday, 
he  gave  it  up ;  he  has  not  been  able  to  get  another  job,  and  has  nothing  but 
what  we  have  given  him  for  making  seats. 

Emma  Y. — Now  a  Soldier  of  the  Marylebone  Slum  i^ost,  was  a  wild 
young  Slummer  when  we  opened  in  the  Boro' ;  could  be  generally  seen  in  the 
streets,  wretchedly  clad,  lier  sleeves  turned  up,  idle,  only  worked  occasionally, 
got  saved  two  years  ago,  had  terrible  persecution  in  her  home.  We  got  her  a 
situation,  where  she  has  been  for  nearly  eighteen  months,  and  is  now  a  good 
servant. 

Lodging-House  Frank. — At  twenty-one  came  into  the  possession  of  £7$o, 
but,  through  drink  and  gambling,  lost  it  all  in  six  or  eight  months,  and  for  over 
seven  years  he  has  tramped  about  from  Portsmouth,  through  the  South  of 
England,  and  South  Wales,  from  one  lodging-house  to  another,  often  starving, 
drinking  when  he  could  get  any  money ;  thriftless,  idle,  no  heart  for  work. 
We  found  him  in  a  lodging-house  six  months  ago,  living  with  a  fallen  girl ;  got 
them  both  saved  <trd  married  ;  five  weeks  after  he  got  work  as  a  carpenter  at 
308.  a  week.  He  has  a  home  of  his  own  now,  and  promises  well  to  make  an 
Officer. 

The  Officer  who  furnishen  the  above  reports  goes  on  to  say : — 

I  can't  call  the  wretched  dwel  ing  home,  to  which  drink  had  brought  Brother 
and  Sister  X.  From  a  life  of  luxury,  they  drifted  down  by  degrees  to  one  room 
in  a  Slum  tenement,  surrounded,  by  drunkards  and  the  vilest  characters.  Their 
lovely  half-starved  children  were  compelled  to  listen  to  the  foulest  language, 
and  hear  fighting  and  quarrelling,  and  alas,  alas,  not  only  to  hear  it  in  the 
adjoining  rooms,  but  witness  it  within  their  own.  For  over  two  years  they 
have  been  delivered  from  the  power  of  the  cursed  drink.  The  old  rookery  is 
gone,  and  now  they  have  a  comfortably-furnished  home.  Their  children  give 
evidence  of  being  truly  converted,  and  have  a  lively  gratitude  for  their  father's 
salvation.  One  boy  of  eight  said,  last  Christmas  Day,  *'  I  remember  when  we 
had  only  dry  bread  for  Christmas ;  but  to-day  we  had  a  goose  and  two  plum- 
puddings."  Brother  X.  was  dismissed  in  disgrace  from  his  situation  as 
commercial  traveller  before  his  conversion ;  to-day  he  is  chiel  man,  next  to  his 
employer,  in  a  large  business  house. 

He  says  : — 

I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  very  few  of  the  lowest  strata  of  Society  are  un- 
willing to  work  if  they  could  get  it.  The  wretched  hand-to-mouth  existence 
many  of  them  have  to  live  disheartens  them,  and  makes  life  with  them  either  a 
feast  or  r>  famine,  and  drives  those  who  have  brains  enough  to  crime. 


RESULTS  ALREADY  ATTAINED. 


169 


saved 
iunday, 
ing  but 

a  wild 
I  in  the 
iionally, 
)t  her  a 
a  good 

for  over 
South  of 
starving, 
or  work, 
girl ;  got 
penter  at 
make  an 

t  Brother 
one  room 
■3.    Their 
language, 
it  in  the 
rears  they 
rookery  is 
ildren  give 
:ir  father's 
r  when  we 
two  plum- 
tuation    as 
next  to  his 


Tl^e  results  of  our  work  in  the  Slums  may  be  put  down  as  : — 

1st  A  marked  improvement  in  the  cleanliness  of  the  homes  and 
children;  disapprnrance  of  vermin,  and  a  considerable  lessening  of 
drunkenness. 

2nd.  A  greater  respect  for  true  religion,  and  especially  that  of  the 
Salvation  Army. 

3rd.  A  much  larger  amount  of  work  is  being  done  now  than 
before  our  going  there. 

4th.  The  rescue  of  many  fallen  girls. 

Sth.  The  Shelter  work  seems  to  us  a  development  of  the  Slum 
work. 

In  connection  with  our  Scheme,  we  propose  to  immediately 
increase  the  numbers  of  these  Slum  Sisters,  and  to  add  to  their  use- 
fulness by  directly  connecting  their  operations  with  the  Colony, 
enabling  them  thereby  to  help  the  poor  people  to  conditions  of  life 
more  favourable  tii  health,  morals,  and  religion.  This  would  be 
accomplished  by  getting  some  of  them  employment  in  the  City,  which 
must  necessarily  result  in  better  homes  and  surroundings,  or  in  the 
opening  up  for  others  of  a  straight  course  from  the  Slums  to  the 
Farm  Co.  -ny. 


Hi 


il.  Ill 


ll; 
I       f' 


II  1: 

ll  i 


'K  : 


ety  are  un- 
h  existence 
em  either  a 


m 


.' , 


Section  2— THE  TRAVELLING  HOSPITAL. 


''I       h      I 


» 

* 

t 

« 
»■ 


i^li 


Of  course,  there  is  only  one  real  remedy  for  this  state  of  things, 
and  that  is  to  take  the  people  away  from  the  wretched  hovels  in 
which  they  sicken,  suffer,  and  die,  with  less  comfort  and  considera- 
tion than  the  cattle  in  the  stalls  and  slyes  of  many  a  country 
Squire.  And  this  is  certainly  our  ultimate  ambition,  but  for  the 
present  distress  something  might  be  done  on  the  lines  of  district 
nursing,  which  is  only  in  very  imperfect  operation. 

I  have  been  thinking  that  if  a  little  Van,  drawn  by  a  pony,  could 
be  fitted  up  with  what  is  ordinarily  required  by  the  sick  and  dying, 
and  trot  round  amongst  these  abodes  of  desolation,  with  a  couple  of 
nurses  trained  for  the  business,  it  might  be  of  immense  service, 
without  being  very  costly.  They  could  have  a  few  simple  instru- 
ments, so  as  to  draw  a  tooth  or  lance  an  abscess,  and  what  was 
absolutely  requisite  for  simple  surgical  operations.  A  little  oil-stove 
for  hot  water  to  prepare  a  poultice,  or  a  hot  foment,  or  a  soap  wash, 
and  a  number  of  other  necessaries  for  nursing,  couid  be  carried 
with  ease. 

The  need  for  this  will  only  be  appreciated  by  those  who  know 
how  utterly  bereft  of  all  the  comforts  and  conveniences  for  attending 
to  the  smallest  matters  in  sickness  which  prevails  in  these  abodes  of 
wretchedness.  It  may  be  suggested.  Why  don't  the  people  when 
they  are  ill  go  to  the  hospital  ?  To  which  we  simply  reply  that 
they  won't.  They  cling  to  their  own  bits  of  rooms  and  to  the  com- 
panionship of  the  members  of  their  own  families,  brutal  as  they  often 
are,  and  would  rather  stay  and  suffer,  and  die  in  the  midst  of  all  the 
filth  and  squalor  that  surrounds  them  in  their  own  dens,  than  go  to 
the  big  house,  which,  to  them,  looks  very  like  a  prison. 

The  sufferings  of  the  wretched  occupants  of  the  Slums  that  we  have 
been  describing,  when  sick  and  unable  to  help  themselves,  makes  the 
organisation  of  some  system  of  nursing  them  in  their  own  homes   u, 


ill 


SICKNESS    IN    THE    SLUMS. 


171 


things, 
vel3  in 
isidera- 
:ountry 
for  the 
district 

y,  could 

I  dying, 

juple  of 

service, 

instru- 
rhat  was 
oil-stove 
ip  wash, 

carried 

lo  know 
ttending 
ibodes  of 
when 
eply  that 
the  com- 
ley  often 
f  all  the 
an  go  to 

t  we  have 
nakes  the 
homes   ii, 


Christian  duty.  Here  are  a  hanJ.'ul  of  cases,  gleaned  almost  at 
random  from  the  reports  of  our  Slum  Sisters,  which  will  show  the 
value  of  the  agency  above  described  : — 

Many  of  those  who  are  sick  have  often  only  one  room,  and  often  several 
children.  The  Oflicers  come  across  many  cases  where,  with  no  one  to  look  after 
them,  tiiey  have  to  lie  for  hours  witiioiit  food  or  nourislimfnt  of  any  kind. 
S  mctimes  the  neighbours  will  take  them  in  a  cup  of  tea.  It  is  really  a  mystery 
how  they  live. 

A  poor  woman  in  Drury  Lane  was  paraly..ed.  She  had  no  one  to  attend  to 
her ;  she  lay  on  the  floor,  on  a  stuflfod  sack,  and  an  old  piece  of  cloth  to  cover 
her.  Although  it  was  winter,  she  very  seldom  had  any  fire.  She  had  no 
garments  to  wear,  and  but  very  little  to  cat 

Another  poor  woman,  who  was  very  ill,  was  allowed  a  little  money  by  her 
daughter  to  pay  her  rent  and  get  her  food  ;  but  very  frequently  she  had  not  the 
strength  to  light  a  fire  or  to  get  herself  food.  She  was  parted  from  her  husband 
because  of  his  cruelty.  Often  she  lay  fur  hours  without  a  soul  to  visit  or  help 
her. 

Adjutant  McClellan  found  a  man  lying  on  a  straw  mattress  in  a  very  bad 
condition.  The  room  was  filthy  ;  the  smell  made  the  Officer  feel  ill.  The  man 
had  been  lying  for  days  without  having  anything  done  for  him.  A  cup  of  water 
was  by  his  side.    The  Officers  voniiti-d  from  the  terrible  smells  of  this  place. 

Frequently  sick  people  are  found  who  need  the  continual  application  of  hot 
poultices,  but  who  are  left  with  a  cold  one  for  hours. 

In  Marylcbone  the  Officers  visited  a  poor  old  woman  who  was  very  ill.  She 
lived  in  an  underground  back  kitchen,  with  hardly  a  ray  of  light  and  never  a  ray 
of  sunshine.  Her  bed  was  made  up  on  some  egg  boxes.  She  had  no  one  to 
look  after  her,  except  a  drunken  daughter,  who  very  often,  when  drunk,  used  to 
knock  the  poor  old  woman  about  very  badly.  The  Officers  frequently  found 
that  she  had  not  eaten  any  food  up  to  twelve  o'clock,  not  even  a  cup  of  tea  to 
drink.  The  only  furniture  in  the  room  was  a  small  table,  an  old  fender,  and  a 
box.    The  vermin  seemed  to  be  innumerable. 

A  poor  woman  was  taken  very  ill,  but,  having  a  small  family,  she  felt  she 
must  get  up  and  wash  them.  While  she  was  washing  the  baby  she  fell  down 
and  was  unable  to  move.  Fortunatfly  a  neighbour  came  in  soon  after  to  ask 
some  question,  and  saw  her  lying  there.  She  at  once  ran  and  fetched  another 
neighbour.  Thinking  the  poor  woman  was  dead,  they  g'^t  her  into  bed  and 
sent  for  a  doctor.  He  said  she  was  in  consumption  and  required  quiet  and 
nourishment.  This  the  poor  woman  could  not  get,  on  account  of  her  children. 
She  got  up  a  few  hours  afterwards.  As  she  was  going  downstairs  she  fell 
down  again.    The  neighbour  picked  her  up  and  put  her  back  to  bed,  where  ior 


'Ml' 


,   1 


t;'r; 


I.   !      ,! 


1.      n 


;:i      I 


'I    '■ 

II'      !•! 


';  ill 


■m;   'fl 


I ' 


!l 


P:S 


>« 


172 


THE    TRAVELLING    HOSPITAL. 


a  long  time  she  lay  thoroughly  prostrated.    The  Officers  took  her  (  ^e  in  hand, 
fed,  and  nursed  her,  cleaned  her  room  and  generally  looked  after  her. 

In  another  dark  slum  the  Officers  fouiul  a  poor  old  woman  in  an  underground 
back  kitchen.  She  was  suffering  with  some  complaint.  When  they  knocked  at 
the  door  she  was  terrified  for  fear  it  was  the  landlord.  The  room  was  in  a  most 
filthy  condition,  never  having  been  cleaned.  She  had  a  penny  paraffin  lamp 
which  filled  the  room  with  smoke.  The  old  woman  was  at  times  totally  unable 
to  do  anything  for  herself.    The  Officers  looked  after  her. 


t 

»■ 


Section    3.— REGENERATION    OF    OUR   CRIMINALS.— THE   PRISON 

GATE  BRIGADE 

Our  Prisons  ought  to  be  reforming  institutions,  which  should  turn 
men  out  better  than  when  they  entered  their  doors.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  they  are  often  quite  the  reverse.  There  are  few  persons  in  t'ais 
world  more  to  be  pitied  than  the  poor  fellow  who  has  served  his  first 
term  of  imprisonment  or  finds  himself  outside  the  gaol  doors  without 
a  character,  and  often  without  a  friend  in  the  world.  Here,  again, 
the  process  of  centralizatioii,  gone  on  apace  of  late  years,  however 
desirable  it  may  be  in  the  interests  of  administration,  tells  with 
disastrous  effects  on  the  poor  wretches  who  are  its  victims. 

In  the  old  times,  when  a  man  was  sent  to  prison,  the  gaol 
stood  within  a  stone's  throw  of  his  home.  When  he  came  out  he  was 
at  any  rate  close  to  his  old  friends  and  relations,  who  would  take  him  in 
and  give  him  a  helping  hand  to  start  once  more  a  new  life.  But  what  has 
happened  owing  to  the  desire  of  the  Government  to  do  away  with  as 
many  local  gaols  as  possible  ?  The  prisoners,  when  convicted,  are 
sent  long  distances  by  rail  to  the  central  prisons,  and  on  coming  out 
find  themselves  cursed  with  the  brand  of  the  gaol  bird,  so  far  from 
home,  character  gone,  and  with  no  one  to  fall  back  upon  for  counsel, 
or  to  give  them  a  helping  *  hand.  No  wonder  it  is  reported  that 
vagrancy  has  much  increased  in  some  large  towns  on  account  of 
discharged  prisoners  taking  to  begging,  having  no   other  resource. 

In  the  competition  for  work  no  employer  ''^  likely  to  take  a  man 
who  is  fresh  from  gaol ;  nor  are  mistresses  likely  to  engage  a 
servant  whose  last  character  was  her  discharge  from  one  of  Her 
Majesty's  prisons.  It  is  incredible  how  much  mischief  is  often  done 
by  well-meaning  persons,  who,  in  struggling  towards  the  attainment 
of  an  excellent  end — such,  for  instance,  as  that  of  economy  and 
efficiency  in  prison  administration — forget  entirely  the  bearing  which 
their  reforms  may  have  upon  the  prisoners  themselves. 


n 


I  \ 


'I  Wi 


I  ii  i^.' 


if   >i 


I"'   !l 

t  l< 


s 


THE  PRISON  GATE  BRIGADE. 


The  Salvation  Army  has  at  least  one  great  qualification  for  dealing 
with  this  question.  I  believe  I  am  in  the  proud  position  of  being  at  the 
head  of  the  only  religious  body  which  has  always  some  of  its 
members  in  gaol  for  conscience'  sake.  We  are  also  one  of  the  few 
religious  bodies  which  can  boast  that  many  of  those  who  are  in  our 
r^nks  have  gone  through  terms  of  penal  servitude.  We,  therefore, 
know  the  p.'ison  at  both  ends.  Some  men  go  to  gaol  because  they 
are  better  than  their  neighbours,  most  men  because  they  are  worse. 
Martyrs,  patriots,  reformers  of  all  kinds  belong  to  the  first  category. 
No  great  cause  has  ever  achieved  a  triumph  before  it  has  furnished 
a  certain  quota  to  the  prison  population.  The  repeal  of  an  unjust 
law  is  seldom  carried  until  a  certain  number  of  those  who  are 
labouring  for  the  reform  have  experienced  in  their  own  persons  the 
hardships  of  fine  and  imprisonment.  Christianity  itself  would  never 
have  triumphed  over  the  Paganism  of  ancient  Rome  had  the  early 
Christians  not  been  enabled  to  testify  from  the  dungeon  and  the 
arena  as  to  the  sincerity  and  serenity  of  soul  with  which  they  could 
confront  their  persecutors,  and  from  that  time  down  to  the  success- 
ful struggles  of  our  people  for  the  right  of  public  meeting  at  Whit- 
church and  elsewhere,  the  Christian  religion  and  the  liberties  of  men 
have  never  failed  to  demand  their  qu  ta  of  martyrs  for  the  faith. 

When  a  man  has  been  to  prison  in  the  best  of  causes  he  learns  to 
look  at  the  question  of  prison  discipline  with  a  much  more  sympa- 
thetic eye  for  those  who  are  sent  there,  even  for  the  worst  offences, 
than  judges  and  legislators  who  only  look  at  the  prison  from  the 
outside.  "  A  fellow-feeling  makes  one  wondrous  kind,"  and  it  is  an 
immense  advantage  to  us  in  dealing  with  the  criminal  classes  that 
many  of  our  best  Officers  have  themselves  !  een  in  a  prison  cell. 
Our  people,  thank  God,  have  never  learnt  to  regard  a  prisoner  as  a 
mere  convict — A  234.  He  is  ever  a  human  being  to  them,  who  is  to 
be  cared  for  and  looked  after  as  a  mother  looks  after  her  ailing  child. 
At  present  there  seems  to  be  but  little  likelihood  of  any  real  reform 
in  the  interior  of  our  prisons  We  have  therefore  to  wait  until  the 
men  come  outside,  in  order  to  see  what  can  be  done.  Our  work 
begins  when  that  of  the  prison  authorities  ceases.  We  have  already 
had  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  this  work,  both  here  and  in  Bombay, 
in  Ceylon,  in  South  Africa,  in  Australia  and  elsewhere,  and  as  the  nett 
result  of  our  experience  we  proceed  now  to  set  forth  the  measures 
we  intend  to  adopt,  some  of  which  are  already  in  successful 
operation. 


WHAT  WE   PROPOSE  TO  DO   FOR  THE   PRISONERS.     175 


1.  We  propose  the  opening  of  Homes  for  this  class  as  near  as 
possible  to  the  different  gaols.  One  for  men  has  just  been  taken  at 
King's  Cross,  and  will  be  occupied  as  soon  as  it  can  be  got  ready. 
One  ior  women  must  follow  immediately.  Others  will  be  required 
in  different  parts  of  the  Metropolis,  and  contiguous  to  each  of  its 
g^eat  prisons.  Connected  with  these  Homes  will  be  workshops  in 
which  the  inmates  will  be  regularly  employed  until  such  time  as  ^ve 
can  get  them  work  elsewhere.  For  this  class  must  also  work,  not 
only  as  a  discipline,  but  as  the  means  for  their  own  support. 

2.  In  order  to  save,  as  far  as  possible,  first  offenders  from  the 
contamination  of  prison  life,  and  to  prevent  the  formation  of  further 
evil  companionships,  and  the  recklessness  which  follows  the  loss  of 
character  entailed  by  imprisonment,  we  would  offer,  in  the  Police ' 
and  Criminal  Courts,  to  take  such  offenders  under  our  wing  as  were 
anxious  to  come  and  willing  to  accept  our  regulations.  The  confidence 
of  both  magistrates  and  prisoners  would,  we  think,  soon  be  secured, 
the  friends  ofthe  latter  would  be  mostly  on  our  side,  and  the  probability, 
therefore,  is  that  we  should  soon  have  a  large  number  of  cases  placed 
under  our  care  on  what  is  known  as  "  suspended  sentence,"  to  be 
brought  up  for  judgment  when  called  upon,  the  record  of  each 
sentence  to  be  wiped  out  on  report  euig  favourable  of  their  conduct 
in  the  Salvation  Army  Home. 

3.  We  should  seek  access  to  the  prisons  in  order  to  gain  such 
acquaintance  with  the  prisoners  as  would  enable  us  the  more  effectu- 
ally to  benefit  them  on  their  discharge.  This  privilege,  we  think, 
would  be  accorded  us  by  the  prison  authorities  when  they  became 
acquainted  with  the  nature  of  our  work  and  the  remarkable  results 
which  followed  it.  The  right  of  entry  into  the  gaols  has  already 
been  conceded  to  our  people  in  Australia,  where  they  have  free 
access  to,  and  connnunion  with,  the  inmates  while  undergoing  their 
sentences.  Prisoners  are  recommended  to  come  to  us  by  the  gaol 
authorities,  who  also  forward  to  our  people  information  of  the  date 
and  hour  when  they  leave,  in  order  that  they  may  be  met  on  their 
release. 

4.  We  propose  to  meet  the  criminals  at  the  prison  gates  with  the 
offer  of  immediate  admission  to  oi.r  Homes.  The  general  rule  is  for 
them  to  be  met  by  their  friends  or  old  associates,  who  ordinarily 
belong  to  the  same  class.  Any  way,  it  would  be  an  exception  to  the 
rule  were  they  not  all  alike  believers  in  the  comforting  and  cheering 
power  of  the  intoxicating  cup.     Hence  the  public-house  is  invariably 


ir 

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'   ■'  I    ■ 


i:! 


1:  ?":^ 


,!:!•' 


a'.'li, 


m^^ 


176 


THE    PRISON    GATE    BRIGADE. 


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» 
I 

t 

II  . 


i^k 


II 


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i  I 


adjourned  to,  where  plans  for  further  crime  are  often  decided  upon 
straight  away,  resulting  frequently,  before  many  weeks  are  past,  in 
the  return  of  the  liberated  convict  to  the  confinement  from  which  he 
has  just  escaped.  Having  been  accustomed  during  confinement  to 
the  implicit  submission  of  themselves  to  the  will  of  another,  the 
newly-discharged  prisoner  is  easily  influenced  by  whoever  first  gets 
hold  of  him.  Now,  v/e  propose  to  be  beforehand  with  these  old 
companions  by  taking  the  gaol-bird  under  our  wing  and  setting 
before  him  an  open  door  of  hope  the  moment  he  crosses  the 
threshold  of  the  prison,  assuring  him  that  if  he  is  willing  to  work 
and  comply  with  our  discipline,  he  never  need  know  want  any  more. 

5.  We  shall  seek  from  the  authorities  the  privilege  of  supervising 
and  reporting  upon  those  who  are  discharged  with  tickets-of-leave, 
so  as  to  free  them  from  the  humiliating  and  harassing  duty  of 
having  to  report  themselves  at  the  police  stations. 

6.  We  shall  find  suitable  employment  for  each  individual.  If  not 
in  possession  of  some  useful  trade  or  calling  we  will  teach  him  one. 

7.  After  a  certain  length  of  residence  in  these  Homes,  if  consistent 
evidence  is  given  of  a  sincere  purpose  to  live  an  honest  life,  he  will 
be  transferred  to  the  Farm  Colony,  unless  in  the  meanwhile  friends 
or  old  employers  take  him  off  our  hands,  or  some  other  form  of 
occupation  is  obtained,  in  which"  case  he  will  still  be  the  object  of 
watchful  care. 

We  shall  offer  to  all  the  ultimate  possibility  of  being  restored 
to  Society  in  this  country,  or  transferred  to  commence  life  afresh  in 
another. 

With  respect  to  results  we  can  speak  very  positively,  for  although 
our  operations  up  to  the  present,  except  for  a  short  time  some  three 
years  ago,  have  been  limited,  and  unassisted  by  the  important  acces- 
sories above  described,  yet  the  success  that  has  attended  them  has 
been  most  remarkable.  The  following  are  a  few  instances  which 
might  be  multiplied  : — 

J.  W.  was  met  at  prison  gate  by  the  Captain  of  the  Home  and  offered  help. 
He  declined  to  come  at  once  as  he  had  friends  in  Scotland  who  he  thought 
would  help  him  ;  but  if  they  failed,  he  promised  to  come.  It  was  his  first 
conviction,  and  he  had  six  months  for  robbing  his  employer.  His  trade  was 
that  ot  a  baker.  In  a  lew  days  he  presented  himself  at  the  Home,  and  was 
received.  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  he  professed  conversion,  and  gave 
every  evidence  of  the  change.  For  four  months  he  was  cook  and  baker  in  the 
kitchen,  and  at  last  a  situation  as  second  hand  was  offered  for  him,  with  the 


SOME    PRISON    TROPHIES. 


177 


J.  S.  Sergeant-major  of  the  Congress  Hall  Corps.  That  is  three  years  ago.  He 
is  there  to-day,  saved,  and  satisfactory  ;  a  thoroughly  useful  and  respectable  man. 

J.  P.  was  an  old  offender.  He  was  met  at  Millbank  on  the  expiration  of  his 
last  term  (five  years),  and  brought  to  the  Home,  where  he  worked  at  his  trade — 
a  tailor.  Eventually  he  got  a  situation,  and  has  since  married.  He  has  now  a 
good  home,  the  confidence  of  his  neighbours,  is  well  saved,  and  a  soldier  of  the 
Hackney  Corps. 

C.  M.  Old  offender,  and  penal  servitude  case.  Was  induced  to  come  to  the 
Home,  got  saved,  was  there  for  a  long  period,  offered  for  the  work,  and  went 
into  the  Field,  was  Lieutenant  for  two  years,  and  eventually  married.  He  is 
now  a  respectable  mechanic  and  soldier  of  a  Corps  in  Derbyshire. 

J.  W.  Was  manager  in  a  large  West  End  millinery  establishment.  He  was 
sent  out  with  two  ten-pound  packages  of  silver  to  change.  On  his  way  he  met 
a  companion  and  was  induced  to  take  a  drink.  In  the  tavern  the  companion 
made  an  excuse  to  go  outside  and  did  not  return,  and  W.  lound  one  of  the 
packages  had  been  abstracted  from  his  outside  pocket.  He  was  afraid  to 
return,  and  decamped  with  the  other  into  the  country.  Whilst  in  a  small  town 
he  strolled  into  a  Mission  Hall ;  there  happened  to  be  a  hitch  in  the  proceedings, 
the  organist  was  absent,  a  volunteer  was  called  or,  and  W.,  being  a  good 
musician,  offered  to  play.  It  seems  the  music  took  hold  of  him.  In  the  middle 
of  the  hymn  he  walked  out  and  went  to  the  police  station  and  gave  himself  up. 
He  got  six  months.  When  he  came  out,  he  saw  that  Happy  George,  an  ex-gaol 
bird,  was  announced  at  the  Congress  Hall.  He  went  to  the  meeting  and  was 
induced  to  come  to  the  Home.  He  eventually  got  saved,  and  to-day  he  is  at  the 
head  of  a  Mission  work  in  the  provinces. 

"  Old  Dan  "  was  a  penal  servitude  case,  and  had  had  several  long  sentences. 
He  came  into  the  Home  and  was  saved.  He  managed  the  bootmaking  there 
for  a  long  time.  He  has  since  gone  into  business  at  Hackney,  and  is  married. 
He  is  of  four  years'  standing,  a  thorough  respectable  tradesman,  and  a 
Salvationist. 

Charles  C.  has  done  in  the  aggregate  twenty-three  years'  penal  servitude. 
Was  out  on  licence,  and  got  saved  at  the  Hull  Barracks.  At  that  time  he 
had  neglected  to  report  himself,  and  had  destroyed  his  licence,  taking  an 
assumed  name.  When  he  got  saved  he  gave  himself  up,  and  was  taken 
before  the  magistrate,  who,  instead  of  sending  him  back  to  fulfil  his  sentence, 
gave  him  up  to  the  Army.  He  was  sent  to  us  from  Hull  by  our  representative, 
is  now  in  our  factory  and  doing  well.  He  is  still  under  poliae  supervision  for 
five  years. 

H.  Kelso.  Also  a  licence  man.  He  had  neglected  to  report  himself,  and  was 
arrested.  While  before  the  magistrate  he  said  he  was  tired  of  dishonesty,  and 
would  go  to  the  Salvation  Army  if  they  would  discharge  him.     He  was  sent 

M 


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Mi:? 


178 


THE    PRISON   GATE    BRIGADE. 


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back  to  penal  servitude.  Application  was  made  by  us  to  the  Home  Secretary 
on  his  behalf,  and  Mr.  Matthews  granted  his  release.  He  was  handed  over  to 
our  Officers  at  Bristol,  brought  to  London,  and  is  now  in  the  Factory,  saved  and 
doing  well. 

E.  W.  belongs  to  Birmingham,  is  in  his  forty-ninth  year,  and  has  been 
in  and  out  of  prison  all  his  life.  He  was  at  Redhill  Reformatory  five  years,  and 
his  last  term  was  five  years'  penal  servitude.  The  Chaplain  at  Pentonville 
advised  him  if  he  really  meant  reformation  to  seek  the  Salvation  Army  on  his 
release.  He  came  to  Thames  Street,  was  sent  to  the  Workshop  and  professed 
salvation  the  following  Sunday  at  the  Shelter.  This  is  three  montiis  ago.  He 
is  quite  satisfactory,  industrious,  contented  and  seemingly  godly. 

A.  B.,  Gentleman  loafer,  good  prospects,  drink  and  idleness  broke  up  hi) 
home,  killed  his  wife,  and  got  him  into  gaol.  Presbyterian  minister,  friend  of  his 
family,  tried  to  reclaim  him,  but  unsuccessfullv.  He  entered  the  Prison  Gate 
Home,  became  thoroughly  saved,  distributed  handbills  for  the  Home,  and  ulti- 
mately got  work  in  a  large  printing  and  publishing  works,  where,  after  three 
years'  service,  he  now  occupies  a  most  responsible  position.  Is  an  elder  in  the 
Presbyterian  Church,  restored  to  his  family,  and  the  possessor  of  a  happy  home. 

W.  C,  a  native  of  London,  a  good-for-nothing  lad,  idle  and  dissolute.  When 
leaving  England  his  father  warned  him  that  if  he  didn't  alter  he'd  end  his  days 
on  the  gallows.  Served  various  sentences  on  all  sorts  of  charges.  Over  six 
years  ago  we  took  him  in  hand,  admitted  him  into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home, 
where  he  became  truly  saved ;  he  got  a  job  of  painting,  which  he  had  learnt  in 
gaol,  and  has  married  a  woman  who  had  formerly  been  a  procuress,  but  had  passed 
through  our  Rescued  Sinners'  Home,  and  there  became  thoroughly  converted. 
Together  they  have  braved  the  storms  of  life,  both  working  diligently  for  their 
living.  They  have  now  a  happy  little  home  of  their  own,  and  are  doing  very 
well. 

F.  X.,  the  son  of  a  Government  officer,  a  drunkard,  gambler,  forger,  and 
all-round  blackguard ;  served  numerous  sentences  for  forgery.  On  his  last 
discharge  was  admitted  into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  where  he  stayed  about 
five  months  and  became  truly  saved.  Although  his  health  was  completely 
shattered  from  the  effects  of  his  sinful  life,  he  steadfastly  resisted  all  temptations 
to  drink,  and  kept  true  to  God.  Through  advertising  in  the  IVar  Cry,  he  found 
his  lost  son  and  daughter,  who  are  delighted  with  the  wonderful  change  in 
their  father.  They  htve  become  regular  attendants  at  our  meetings  in  the 
Temperance  Hall.  He  now  keeps  a  cofTee-stall,  is  doing  well,  and  properly 
saved. 

G.  A.,  72,  spent  23  years  in  gaol,  last  sentence  two  years  for  burglary ;  was 
a  drunkard,  gambler,  and  swearer.  Met  on  his  discharge  by  the  Prison  Gate 
Brigade,  admitted  into  Home,  where  he  remained  four  months,  and  became 
truly  saved.     He  is  living  a  consistent,  codly  life,  and  is  in  employment. 


SOME    PRISON    TROPHIES. 


179 


lary;  was 
lison  Gate 
became 


C.  D.,  aged  64,  opium-smoker,  gambler,  blackguard,  separated  from  wife  and 
fiimily,  and  event>ially  landed  in  gaol,  was  met  on  his  discharge  and  admitted 
into  Prison  Gate  Brigade  Home,  was  saved,  and  is  now  restored  to  his  wife  and 
family,  and  giving  satisfaction  in  his  employment. 

S.  T.  was  an  idle,  loafing,  thieving,  swearing,  disreputable  young  man,  who 
lived,  when  out  of  gaol,  with  the  low  prostitutes  of  Little  Bourke  Street.  Was 
taken  in  h:.nd  by  our  I'rison  Gate  Brigade  Officers,  who  got  him  saved,  then 
found  him  work.  After  a  lew  months  he  expressed  a  desire  to  work  for  God. 
and  although  a  cripple,  and  having  to  use  a  crutch,  such  was  his  earnestness 
that  he  was  accepted  and  has  done  good  service  as  an  Army  officer.  His  testi- 
mor/  is  pood  and  his  life  consistent.     He  is,  indeed,  a  marvel  of  Divine  grace. 

M.  J.,  a  young  man  holding  a  high  position  in  England,  got  into  a  fast  set ; 
thought  a  change  to  the  Colonies  would  be  to  his  advantage.  Started  for 
Australia  with  ^200  odd,  of  which  he  spent  a  good  portion  on  board  ship  in 
drink,  soon  dissipated  the  balance  on  landing,  and  woke  up  one  morning  to 
find  himself  in  gaol,  with  delirium  tremens  on  him,  no  money,  his  luggage  lost, 
and  witiiout  a  friend  on  the  whole  continent.  On  his  discharge  he  entered  our 
Prison  Gate  Home,  became  converted,  and  is  now  occupying  a  responsible 
position  in  a  Colonial  Bank. 

B.  C,  a  man  of  good  birth,  education,  and  position ;  drank  himself  out  ot 
home  and  friends  and  into  gaol,  on  leaving  which  he  came  to  our  Home  ;  was 
saved,  exhibiting  by  an  earnest  and  truly  consistent  life  the  depth  of  his  con- 
version, being  made  instrumental  while  with  us  in  the  salvation  of  many  who, 
like  himself,  had  come  to  utter  destitution  and  crime  through  drink.  He  is  now 
in  a  first-class  situation,  getting  ^300  a  year,  wife  and  family  restored,  the 
possessor  of  a  happy  home,  and  the  love  of  God  shed  abroad  in  it. 

I  do  not  produce  these  samples,  which  are  but  a  few,  taken  at 
random  from  the  many,  for  the  purpose  of  boasting.  The  power 
which  has  wrought  these  miracles  is  not  in  me  nor  in  my  Officers  ; 
It  IS  power  which  comes  down  from  above.  But  I  think  I  may 
fairly  point  to  these  cases,  in  which  our  instrumentality  has  been 
blessed,  to  the  plucking  of  these  brands  from  the  burning,  as  affording 
some  justification  for  the  plea  to  be  enabled  to  go  on  with  this  work 
on  a  much  more  extended  scale.  If  any  other  organisation,  religious 
or  secular,  can  show  similar  trophies  as  the  result  of  such  limited 
operations  as  ours  have  hitherto  been  among  the  criminal  population, 
I  am  willing  to  give  place  to  them.  All  that  I  want  is  to  have  the 
work  done. 


1 1 


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Secthon  4,— effectual  DELIVERANCE  FOR   THE   DRUNKARD. 


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The  number,  misery,  and  hopeless  condition  of  the  slaves  of  strong 
drink,  of  both  sexes,  have  been  already  dealt  with  at  considerable 
length. 

We  have  seen  that  there  are  in  Great  Britain  one  million  of  men 
and  women,  c  •  thereabouts,  completely  under  the  domination  of  this 
cruel  appetite.  The  utter  helplessness  of  Society  to  deal  with  the 
drunkard  has  been  proved  again  and  again,  and  confessed  on  all 
hands  by  those  who  have  had  experience  on  the  subject  As  we 
have  before  said,  the  general  feeling  of  all  those  who  have  tried  their 
hands  at  this  kind  of  business  is  one  of  despair.  They  think  the 
present  race  of  drunkards  must  be  left  to  perish,  that  every  species 
of  effort  having  proved  vain,  the  energies  expended  in  the 
endeavour  to  rescue  the  parents  will  be  laid  out  to  greater 
advantages  upon  the  children. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  all  this.  Our  own  efforts  have 
been  successful  in  a  very  remarkable  degree.  Some  of  the  bravest, 
most  devoted,  and  successful  workers  in  our  ranks  are  men  and 
women  who  were  once  the  most  abject  slaves  of  the  intoxicating 
cup.  Instances  of  this  have  been  given  already.  We  might 
multiply  them  by  thousands.  Still,  when  compared  with  the  ghastly 
array  which  the  drunken  army  presents  to-day,  those  rescued  are 
comparatively  few.  The  great  reason  for  this  is  the  simple  fact  that 
the  vast  majority  of  those  addicted  to  the  cup  are  its  veritable 
slaves.  No  amount  of  reasoning,  or  earthly  or  religious  considerations, 
can  have  any  effect  upon  a  man  who  is  so  completely  under  the 
mastery  of  this  passion  that  he  cannot  break  away  from  it,  although 
he  sees  the  most  terrible  consequences  staring  him  in  the  face. 

The  drunkard  promises  and  vows,  but  promises  and  vows  in 
^n.  Occasionally  he  will  put  forth  frantic  efforts  to  deliver  himself, 
but  only  to  fall  again  in  the  presence  of  the  opportunity.     The 


A   SUCCESSFUL    RESCUE. 


191 


insatiable  crave  controls  him.  He  cannot  get  away  from  it.  It 
compels  him  to  drink,  whether  he  will  or  not,  and,  unless  delivered 
by  an  Almighty  hand,  he  will  drink  himself  into  a  drunkard's  grave 
and  a  drunkard's  hell. 

Our  annals  team  with  successful  rescues  effected  from  the  ranks  of 
the  drunken  army.  The  following  will  not  only  be  examples  of  this, 
but  will  tend  to  illustrate  the  strength  and  madness  of  the  passion 
which  masters  '^'e  slave  to  strong  drink. 

Barbara. — She  had  sunk  about  as  low  as  any  woman  could  when  we  found  her. 

From  the  age  of  eighteen,  when  her  parents  had  forced  her  to  throw  over  her 
sailor  sweetheart  and  marry  a  man  with  "  good  prospects,"  she  had  been  going 
steadily  down. 

She  did  not  love  her  husband,  and  soon  sought  comfort  from  the  little  public- 
kouse  only  a  few  steps  from  her  own  door.  Quarrels  in  her  home  quickly  gave 
place  to  fighting,  angry  curses,  and  oaths,  and  soon  her  life  became  one  of  the 
most  wretched  in  the  place.  Her  husband  made  no  pretence  of  caring  for  her, 
and  when  she  was  ill'and  unable  to  earn  mor.ey  by'selling  fish  in  the  streets,  he 
would  go  off  for  a  few  months,  leaving  her  to  keep  the  house  and  support 
herself  and  babies  as  best  she  could.  Out  of  her  twenty  years  of  married  life, 
ten  were  spent  in  these  on-and-off  separations.  And  so  she  got  to  live  for  only 
one  thing — drink.  It  was  life  to  her ;  and  the  mad  craving  grew  to  be  irresistible. 
The  woman  who  looked  after  he-  at  the  birth  of  her  child  refused  to  fetch  her 
whisky,  so  when  she  had  done  all  she  could  and  left  the  mother  to  rest, 
Barbara  crept  out  of  bed  and  crawled  slowly  down  the  stairs  over  the  way  to 
the  tap-room,  where  she  sat  drinking  with  the  baby,  not  yet  an  hour  old,  in  her 
arms.  So  things  went  on,  until  her  life  got  so  unbearable  that  shedettirminedto 
have  done  with  it.  Taking  her  two  eldest  rhildren  with  her,  she  went  dawn  to  the 
bay,  and  deliberately  threw  them  both  into  the  water,  jumping  in  he.-self  after 
them.  "  Oh,  mither,  niither,  dinna  droon  me  ! "  wailed  her  little  three-year-old 
Sarah,  but  she  was  determined  and  held  them  under  the  water,  till,  seeing  a  boat 
put  out  to  the  rescue  she  knew  that  she  was  discovered.  Too  late  to  do  it 
now,  she  thought,  and,  holding  both  children,  swam  quickly  back  to  the  shore.  A 
made-up  story  about  having  fallen  into  the  water  satisfied  the  boatman,  and 
Barbara  returned  home  diipping  and  baffled.  But  little  Sarah  did  not  recover 
from  the  shock,  and  after  a  few  weeks  her  short  life  ended,  and  she  was  laid  in 
the  Cemeterj'. 

Yet  another  time,  goaded  to  desperation,  she  tried  to  take  her  life  by  hanging 
herself,  but  a  neighbour  came  in  and  cut  her  down  unconscious,  but  still  living. 
She  became  a  terror  to  all  the  neighbourhood,  and  her  name  was  the  bye-word 
for  daring  and  desperate  actions.  But  our  Open-Air  Meetings  attracted  her,  she 
came  to  the  Barracks,  got  saved,  and  was  delivered  from  her  love  of  drink  and  sin. 


'1 

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Mfiiil 


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8  11 


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i 

I: 

In    ai 


III 


i    : 


182      EFFECTUAL    DELIVERANCE    FOR    THE    DRUNKARD. 

From  being  a  dread  her  home  became  a  sort  of  house  of  refuge  in  the  little 
low  street  where  siie  lived ;  other  wives  as  uniiappy  as  herself  would  come  in  for 
advice  and  help.  Anyone  knew  that  Barbie  was  ciianged,  and  loved  to  do 
all  she  could  for  her  neighbours.  A  few  months  ago  siie  came  up  to  the  Captain's 
ia  great  distress  over  a  woman  wiio  lived  just  opposite.  She  liad  been  cruelly 
ivicked  and  cursed  by  her  husband,  vviio  had  fuialiy  bolted  the  door  against  her, 
and  she  had  turned  to  Barbie  as  tlie  only  iiope.  And  of  course  Barbie  took  her 
in,  with  her  rough-and-ready  kindness  got  her  to  bed,  kept  out  the  other  women 
who  crowded  round  to  sympathise  and  declaim  against  the  husband's  brutality, 
was  both  nurse  and  doctor  for  tiie  poor  woman  till  her  cliild  was  born  and 
Uiid  in  the  mother's  arms.  And  then,  to  Barbie's  distress,  she  could  do  no  more, 
for  the  woman,  not  daring  to  be  absent  longer,  got  up  as  'qest  she  could,  and 
crawled  on  hands  and  knees  down  the  little  steep  steps,  across  tlie  streei,  and 
back  to  her  own  door.  "  But,  Barbie  !  "  exclaimed  tiie  Captain,  horrified,  "  you 
should  have  nursed  her,  and  kept  her  until  siie  was  strong  enough."  But  Barbie 
answered  by  reminding  the  Captain  of  "  John's  "  fearful  temper,  and  how  it 
might  cost  the  woman  her  l^fe  to  be  absent  from  her  home  more  than  a  couple 
of  hours. 

The  second  is  the  case  of — 

Maggie. — She  had  a  home,  but  seldom  was  sober  enough  to  reach  it  at  nights. 
She  would  fall  down  on  the  doorsteps  until  found  by  some  passer-by  or  a 
policeman. 

In  on«  of  her  mad  freaks  a  boon-companion  happened  to  offend  her.  He 
was  a  little  hunch-back,  and  a  fellow-drunkard  ;  but  without  a  moment  s  hesita- 
tion, Maggie  seized  him  and  pushed  him  head-foremost  down  the  old- 
fashioned  wide  sewer  of  the  Scotch  town.  Had  not  some  one  seen  his  heels 
kicking  out  and  rescued  him,  he  would  surely  have  been  suffocated. 

One  winter's  night  Maggie  had  been  drinking  heavily,  fighting,  too,  as  usual, 
and  she  staggered  only  as  far,  on  her  way  home,  as  the  narrow  chain-pier. 
Here  she  stumbled  and  fell,  and  lay  along  on  the  snow,  the  blood  oozing  from 
lier  cuts,  and  her  hair  spread  out  in  a  tangled  mass. 

At  5  in  the  mornii.g,  some  factory  girls,  cross. ng  liie  bridge  to  their  work, 
came  upon  her,  lying  stiff  and  stark  amidst  the  snow  and  darkness. 

To  rouse  her  from  her  drunken  sleep  was  hard,  but  to  raise  her  from  the 
ground  was  still  harder.  The  matted  hair  and  blood  had  frozen  fast  to  the 
earth,  and  Maggie  was  a  prisoner.  After  trying  to  free  her  in  different  ways, 
and  receiving  as  a  reward  volleys  of  abuse  and  bad  language,  one  of  the  girls 
ran  for  a  kettle  of  boiling  water,  and  by  pouring  it  all  around  her,  they  succeeded 
by  degrees  in  melting  her  on  to  her  feet  again ! 

But  she  came  to  our  Barracks,  and  got  soundly  converted,  and  the  Captain 
was  rewarded  for  nights  and  days  of  toil  by  seeing  her  a  saved  and  sober  woman. 


usual, 
i-pier. 
from 

work, 

im  the 
to  the 
ways, 
e  girls 
cceded 


A   WONDERFUL   CASE. 


183 


AH  went  right  till  a  friend  askeu  her  to  his  house,  to  drink  his  health,  and 
that  of  his  newly-married  wife. 

"  I  wouldn't  ask  you  to  take  anything  strong,"  he  said.  "  Drink  to  me  with  this 
lemonaie." 

And  Maggie,  nothing  suspecting,  drank,  and  as  she  drank  tasted  in  tlie  glass 
her  old  enemy,  whisky ! 

The   man  laughed  at  li    «  dismay,  but  a  friend  rushed  off  to  tell  the  Captain. 

"  I  may  be  in  time,  she  has  not  really  gone  back";  and  the  Captain  ran  to  the 
house,  tying  her  bonnet  strings  as  she  ran. 

"  It's  no  good — keep  awa' — I  don't  want  to  see'er.  Captain,"  wailed  Maggie  ; 
"  let  me  have  some  more — oh,  I'm  on  fire  inside." 

But  the  Captain  was  firm,  and  taking  her  to  her  home,  she  locked  herself  in 
with  the  woman,  and  sat  with  the  key  in  her  pocket,  while  Maggie,  half  mad 
with  craving,  paced  the  floor  like  a  caged  animal,  threatening  and  entreating  by 
terms. 

"  Never  while  I  live,"  was  all  the  answer  she  could  get ;  so  she  turned  to  the 
door,  and  busied  hersell  there  a  moment  or  two.  A  clinking  noise.  The  Captain 
started  up — to  see  the  door  open  and  Maggie  rush  through  it !  Accustomed 
to  stealing  and  all  its  "  dodges,"  she  had  taken  the  lock  off  the  door,  and  was 
away  to  the  nearest  public-house. 

Down  the  stairs,  Captain  after  her,  into  the  gin  palace ;  but  before  the 
astonished  publican  could  give  her  the  drink  she  was  clamouring  for,  the 
"  bonnet  "  was  by  her  side,  "  If  you  dare  to  serve  her,  I'll  break  the  glass  before 
it  reaches  her  lips.  She  shell  not  have  any !  "  and  so  Maggie  was  coaxed  away, 
and  shielded  till  the  passion  was  over,  and  she  was  herself  once  more. 

Bui  he  man  who  gave  her  the  whisky  durst  not  leave  his  house  for  weeks. 
The  roughs  got  to  know  of  the  trap  he  had  laid  for  her,  and  would  have  lynched 
him  could  they  have  got  hold  of  him. 

The  third  is  the  case  of  Rose. 

Rose  was  ruined,  deserted,  and  left  to  the  streets  when  only  a  girl  of  thirteen, 
by  a  once  well-to-do  man,  who  is  now,  we  believe,  closing  his  days  in  a  workhouse 
in  the  North  of  England. 

Fatherless,  motherless,  and  you  might  almost  say  friendless.  Rose  trod  the 
broad  way  to  destruction,  with  all  its  misery  and  shame,  for  twelve  long  years. 
Her  wild,  passionate  nature,  writhing  under  the  wrong  suffered,  sought  forget- 
fulness  in  the  intoxicating  cup,  and  she  soon  became  a  notorious  drunkard. 
Seventy-four  times  during  her  career  she  was  dragged  before  the  magistrates, 
and  seventy-four  times,  with  one  exception,  she  was  punished,  but  the  seventy- 
fourth  time  she  was  as  far  off  reformation  as  ever.  The  one  exception  happened 
on  the  Queen's  Jubilee  Day.  On  seeing  her  well-known  face  again  before  him, 
the  magistrate  enquired,  "  How  many  times  has  this  wp'map  been  here  before?" 


!    I 


^ 


i! 


.1  I 


w 


M     1 


^  :r 


',',;  i 


I    41 


184      EFFECTUAL    OELIV'^RANCE    FOR   THE    DRUNKARD. 


H 


14  r 

c 

» 
* 

I 

k 


f 


Iff 


The  Policf  Sii|u'riiit«Mi(lfnt  aiiswert'tl,  "  Fifty  limes. "  The  magistrate  remarked, 
in  somewliat  jjrim  hiMnoiir,  "  Then  this  is  her  Jubilee,"  and,  moved  by  the  cuinci- 
dence,  he  let  her  k<'  free.     So  Rose  spent  her  jubilee  out  of  prison. 

It  is  a  wonder  tiiat  the  dreadful,  drunken,  reckless,  dissipated  life  bhe  lived  did 
not  hurry  her  to  an  early  grave  ;  it  did  affect  her  reason,  and  for  three  weeks 
she  was  locked  up  in  Lancaster  Lunatic  Asylum,  having  really  gone  mad  through 
drink  and  sin. 

In  evidence  of  her  reckless  nature,  it  is  said  that  after  her  second  imprison- 
ment she  vowed  she  would  never  again  walk  to  the  police  station  ;  con- 
sef|uently,  when  in  her  wild  orgies  the  police  found  it  necessary  to  arrest 
her,  they  had  to  get  her  to  the  police  station  as  best  tht'y  could,  some- 
times by  requisitioning  a  wheelbarrow  or  a  cart,  or  the  use  of  a  stretcher,  and 
sometimes  they  had  to  carry  her  right  out.  On  one  occasion,  towards  the  close 
of  her  career,  when  driven  to  the  last-named  method,  four  policemen  were  carry- 
ing her  to  the  station,  and  she  was  extra  violent,  screaming,  plunging  and  biting, 
when,  either  by  accident  or  design,  one  of  the  policemen  let  go  of  her  head,  and 
it  came  in  contact  with  the  curbstone,  causing  the  blood  to  pour  forth  in  a  stream. 
As  soon  as  they  placed  her  in  the  cell  the  poor  creature  caught  the  blood  in  her 
hands,  and  literally  washed  her  face  with  it.  On  the  following  morning  she 
presented  a  pitiable  sight,  and  before  taking  her  into  the  court  the  police  wanted 
to  wash  her,  but  she  declared  she  would  draw  any  man's  blood  who  attempted 
to  put  a  finger  upon  her ;  they  had  spilt  her  blood,  and  she  would  carry  it  into 
the  court  as  a  witness  against  them.  On  coming  out  of  gaol  for  the  last  time, 
she  met  with  a  few  Salvationists  beating  the  drum  and  singing  "  Oh !  the  Lamb, 
the  bleeding  Lamb  ;  He  'vas  found  worthy."  Rose,  struck  with  the  son^,  and 
impressed  with  the  very  faces  of  the  people,  followed  them,  saying  to  herself, 
"  I  never  before  h^ard  anything  like  that,  or  seen  such  happy  looking  people." 
She  came  into  the  Barracks  ;  her  heart  was  broken  ;  she  found  her  way  to  the 
Penitent  Form,  and  Christ,  with  His  own  precious  blood,  washed  her  sins  away. 
She  arose  from  her  knees  and  said  to  the  Captain,  "  It  is  all  right  now." 

Three  months  after  her  conversion  a  great  meeting  was  held  in  the  largest 
hall  in  the  town,  where  she  was  known  to  almost  every  inhabitant.  There  were 
about  three  thousand  people  present.  Rose  was  called  upon  to  give  her  testi- 
mony to  the  power  of  God  to  save.  A  more  enthusiastic  wave  of  sympathy 
never  greeted  any  speaker  than  that  which  met  her  from  that  crowd,  every 
one  of  whom  was  familiar  with  her  past  history.  After  a  few  broken  words,  in 
which  she  spoke  of  the  wonderful  change  that  had  taken  place,  a  cousin,  who, 
like  herself,  had  lived  a  notoriously  evil  life,  came  to  the  Cross. 

Rose  is  now  War  Cry  sergeant.  She  goes  into  the  brothels  and  gin  palaces 
and  other  haunts  of  vice,  from  which  she  was  rescued,  «(Qd  $eUs  more  papers 
than  any  other  Soldier. 


DELIVER    THEM     FROM    TEMPTATION. 


185 


irked, 

oinci- 

weeks 
irough 

prison- 
1 ;  con- 
I  arrest 
some- 
,er,  and 
he  close 
re  carry- 
id  biting, 
lead,  and 
a  stream, 
od  in  her 
rning  she 
ce  wanted 
attempted 

irry  it  i"*" 

:  last  time, 
the  Lamb, 
soni.  and 
to  herself, 

ng  people." 
way  to  the 
r  sins  away. 
w." 

the  largest 
There  were 

■ve  her  testi- 

?>{  sympathy 

:rowd,  every 

;en  words,  in 

cousin,  who, 

i  gin  palaces 
more  papers 


The  Superiiitfiidrnt  of  I'ollce,  soon  after  her  converstion,  told  thf!  Captain  of 
the  Corps  that  in  rescuing  Kose  a  more  wonderful  work  had  been  done  than  he 
had  sei-n  in  all  tlu-  years  gone  by. 

S.  was  a  native  of  Lancashire,  tiic  son  of  poor,  but  jiious,  parents.  He  was 
saved  when  sixteen  years  of  age.  He  was  lirst  an  Kvaiigeiist,  tlien  a  City 
Missionary  for  five  or  six  years,  and  afterwards  a  Baptist  Minister.  He 
then  fell  under  the  influence  of  drink,  reslRnod,  and  became  a  commercial 
traveller,  but  lost  his  berth  through  drink.  He  w;  then  an  insuranro  agent, 
and  rose  to  be  superintendent,  but  was  again  dismissed  through  drink. 
During  his  drunken  career  he  iuul  delirium  tremens  four  times,  attempted 
suicide  three  times,  sold  up  six  homos,  was  in  the  workhouse  with  his 
wife  and  family  three  times.  His  last  contrivance  for  getting  drink  was  to 
preach  mock  sermons,  and  offer  mock  prayers  in  the  tap-rooms. 

After  one  of  these  blasphemous  performances  in  a  public-house,  on  the  words, 
"  Are  you  Saved  ?  "  he  w;  i  challenged  to  go  to  the  Salvation  Barracks.  He 
went,  and  the  Captain,  who  knew  him  well,  at  once  made  for  him,  to  plead  for 
his  soul,  but  S.  knocked  him  down,  and  rushed  back  to  the  public-house  for 
more  drink.  He  was,  however,  so  moved  by  what  he  had  heard  that  he  was 
unable  to  raise  the  liquor  to  his  mouth,  although  he  made  three  attempts.  He 
again  returned  to  the  meeting,  and  again  quitted  it  for  the  public-house.  He 
could  not  rest,  and  for  the  third  time  he  returned  to  the  Barracks.  As  he  entered 
the  last  time  the  Soldiers  were  singing  : — 

"  Depth  of  mercy,  can  there  be 
Mercy  still  reserved  for  me  ? 
Can  my  God  his  wrath  forbear  ? 
Me,  the  chief  of  Sinners,  spare?" 
This  song  impressed  him  still  further  ;  he  wept,  and  remained  in  the  Barracks 
under  deep  conviction  until  midnight.     He  was  drunk  all  the  next  day,  vainly 
trying  to  drown  his  convictions.     The  Captain  visited  him  at  night,  but  was 
quickly  thrust  out  of  the  house.     He  was  there  again  next  morning,  and  prayed 
and  talked  with  S.  for  nearly  two  hours.     Poor  S.  was  in  despair.     He  persisted 
that  there  was  no  mercy  tor  him.     After  a  long  struggle,  however,  hope  sprung 
up,  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  confessed  his  sins,  and  obtained  forgiveness. 

When  this  happened,  his  furniture  consisted  of  a  soap-box  for  a  table,  and 
starch  boxes  for  chairs.  His  wife,  himself,  and  three  children,  had  not  slept 
in  a  bed  for  three  years.  He  has  now  a  happy  family,  a  comfortable  home,  and 
has  been  the  means  of  leading  numbers  of  other  slaves  of  sin  to  the  Saviour,  and 
to  a  truly  happy  life. 

Similar  cases,  describing  the  deliverance  of  drunkards  from  the 
bondage  of  strong  di  ink,  could  be  produced  indefinitely.  There  are 
Officers  marching  in  our  ranks  to-day,  who  where  once  gripped  by 


-I 


1<   ] 


I    il« 


;  I'  -l 


186       EFFECTUAL    DELIVERANCE    FOR    THE    DRUIMKARD. 


this  fiendish  fascination,  who  have  had  their  fetters  broken,  and  are 
now  free  men  in  the  Army.  Still  the  mighty  torrent  of  Alcohol, 
fed  by  ten  thousand  manufactories,  sweeps  on,  bearing  with  it,  I 
have  no  hesitatiun  in  saying,  the  foulest,  bloodiest  tide  that  ever 
flowed  from  earth  to  eternity.  The  Church  of  the  living  God 
ought  not — and  to  say  nothing  about  religion,  the  people  who  have 
any  humanity  ought  not,  to  rest  without  doing  something  desperate 
to  rescue  this  half  of  a  million  who  are  in  the  eddying  mael- 
strom. We  purpose,  therefore,  the  taking  away  of  the  people  from 
the  temptation  which  they  cannot  resist.  We  would  to  God  that 
the  temptation  could  be  taken  away  from  them,  that  every  house 
licensed  to  send  forth  the  black  streams  of  bitter  death  were  closed, 
and  closed  for  ever.  But  this  will  not  be,  we  fear,  for  the  present 
at  least. 

While  in  one  case  drunkenness  may  be  resolved  into  a  habit,  in 
another  it  must  be  accounted  a  disease.  What  is  wanted  in  the  one 
case,  therefore,  is  some  method  of  removing  the  man  out  of  the 
sphere  of  the  temptation,  and  in  the  other  for  treating  the  passion 
as  a  disease,  as  we  should  any  other  physical  affection,  bringing  to 
bear  upon  it  every  agency,  hygienic  and  otherwise,  calculated  to 
effect  a  cure. 

The  Dalrymple  Homes,  in  which,  on  the  order  of  a  magistrate  and 
by  their  own  consent.  Inebriates  can  be  confined  for  a  time,  have 
been  a  partial  success  in  dealing  with  this  class  in  both  these 
respects  ;  but  they  are  admittedly  too  expensive  to  be  of  any  service 
to  the  poor.  It  could  never  be  hoped  that  working  people  of  them- 
selves, or  .with  the  assistance  of  their  *ri*'^ds,  would  be  able  to  pay 
two  pounds  a  week  for  the  privilege  of  being  removed  away  from  th? 
licensed  temptations  to  drink  which  surround  them  at  every  step. 
Moreover,  could  they  obtain  admission  they  would  feel  themselves 
anything  but  at  ease  amongst  the  class  who  avail  themselves 
of  these  institutions.  We  propose  to  establish  Homes  which  will 
contemplate  the  deliverance,  not  of  ones  and  twos,  but  of  multi- 
tudes, and  which  will  be  accessible  to  the  poor,  or  to  persons  of  any 
class  choosing  to  use  them.  This  is  our  national  vice,  and  it 
demands  nothing  short  of  a  national  remedy — anyway,  one  of 
proportions  large  enough  to  be  counted  national. 

I.  To  begin  with,  there  will  be  City  Homes,  into  which  a  man 
can  be  taken,  watched  over,  kept  out  of  the  way  of  temptation,  and  if 
possible  delivered  from  the  power  of  this  dreadful  habit. 


THE   SOCIAL   EVIL. 


187 


and  are 
Alcohol, 
ith  it,  1 
Kat  ever 
ing  God 
>rho  have 
iesperate 
ig  mael- 
jple  from 
God  that 
;ry  house 
;re  closed, 
ic  present 

a  habit,  in 
in  the  one 
out  of  the 
the  passion 
wringing  to 
Iculated  to 

ristrate  and 
time,  have 
both  these 
any  service 
le  of  them- 
able  to  pay 
ray  from  th'" 
every  step, 
themselves 
themselves 
:s  which  will 
)Ut  of  multi- 
irsons  of  any 
vice,    and  it 
Aray,   one   of 

which  a  man 
tation,  and  if 


In  some  cases  persons  would  be  taken  in  who  are  engaged  in 
business  in  the  City  in  the  day,  being  accompanied  by  an  attendant 
to  and  from  the  Home.  In  this  case,  of  course,  adequate  remunera- 
tion for  this  extra  care  would  be  required. 

2.  Country  Homes,  which  we  shall  conduct  on  the  Dalrymple 
principle  ;  that  is,  taking  persons  for  compulsory  confinement,  they 
binding  themselves  by  a  bond  confirmed  /-y  a  magistrate  that  they 
would  remain  for  a  certain  period. 

The  general  regulations  for  boLh  establishments  would  be  some- 
thing as  follows  : — 


(0- 


(2)- 


(3). 


Tiiere  would  be  only  one  class  in  each  establishment.  It  it  was 
found  that  the  rich  and  the  poor  did  not  work  comfortably 
together,  separate  institutions  must  be  provided. 
All  would  alike  have  to  engage  in  some  remunerative  form  of  em- 
ployment. Outdoor  work  would  be  preferred,  but  indoor  employ- 
ment would  be  arranged  for  those  for  whom  it  was  most  suitable, 
and  in  such  weatiier  and  at  such  times  of  the  year  when  garden 
work  was  impracticable. 

A  charge  of  los.   per  week  would  be  made.     This  could  be 
remitted  when  there  was  no  ability  to  pay  it. 

The  usefulness  of  such  Homes  is  too  evident  to  need  any 
discussion.  There  is  one  class  of  unfortunate  creatures  who  must 
be  objects  of  pity  to  ill  who  have  any  knowledge  of  their  existence, 
and  that  is,  those  meii  and  women  who  are  being  continually  dragged 
before  the  magistrates,  of  whom  we  are  constantly  reading  in  the 
police  reports,  whose  lives  are  spent  in  and  out  of  prison,  at  an 
enormous  cost  to  the  country,  and  without  any  benefit  to  themselves. 

We  should  then  be  able  to  deal  with  this  class.  It  would  be 
possible  for  a  magistrate,  instead  of  sentencing  the  poor  wrecks  of 
humanity  to  the  sixty -fourth  and  one  hundred  and  twentieth  term  of 
imprisonment,  to  send  them  to  this  Institution,  by  simply  remanding 
them  to  come  up  for  sentence  when  called  for.  How  much  cheaper 
such  an  arrangement  would  be  for  the  country  I 


i'  m 


r,n- 


r 


i   ij 


*  i 


Section  5.— A  NEW  WAY  OF  ESCAPE  FOR  LOST  WOMEN. 

THE     RESCUE     HOMES. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  evil  more  destructive  of  the  best  interests  of 
Society,  or  confessedly  more  difficult  to  deal  with  remedially,  than 
that  which  is  known  as  the  Social  Evil,  We  have  already  seen 
something  of  the  extent  to  which  this  terrible  scourge  has  grown, 
and  the  alarming  manner  in  which  it  affects  our  modern  civilisation. 

We  have  already  made  an  attempt  at  grappling  with  this  evil,  having 
about  thirteen  Homes  in  Great  Britain,  accommodating  307  girls 
under  the  charge  of  132  Officers,  jgether  with  seventeen  Homes 
abroad,  open  for  the  same  purpose.  The  whole,  although  a  small 
affair  compared  with  the  vastness  of  the  necessity,  nevertheless 
constitutes  perhaps  the  largest  and  most  efficient  effort  of  its 
character  in  the  world. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  results  that  have  been  already 
realised.  By  our  varied  operations,  apart  from  these  Homes, 
probably  hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  have  been  delivered  from  lives 
of  shame  and  misery.  We  have  no  exact  return  of  the  number  who 
have  gone  through  the  Homes  abroad,  but  in  connection  with  the 
work  in  this  country,  about  3,CXX)  have  been  rescued,  and  are  living 
lives  of  virtue. 

This  success  has  not  only  been  gratifying  on  account  of  the 
blessing  it  has  brought  these  young  women,  the  gladness  it  has 
introduced  to  the  homes  to  which  they  have  been  restored,  and  the 
benefit  it  has  bestowed  upon  Society,  but  because  it  has  assured  us 
that  much  greater  results  of  the  same  character  may  be  realised  by 
operations  conducted  on  a  larger  scale,  and  under  more  favourable 
circumstances. 

With  this  view  we  propose  to  remodel  and  greatly  increase  the 
number  of  our  Homes  both  in  London  and  the  provinces,  estab- 
lishing one  in  every  great  centre  of  this  infamous  traffic. 

To  make  them  very  largely  Receiving  Houses,  where  the  girls 
will  be  initiated  into  the  system  of  reformation,  tested  as  to  the 
reality  of  their  desires  for  deliverance,  and  started  forward  on  the 
highway  of  truth,  virtue,  and  religion. 


GIRLS    IN    THE    FARM    COLONY. 


189 


EN. 


terests  of 
ally,  than 
;ady  seen 
Ls  grown, 
nlisation. 
v\\,  having 
307   girls 
en  Homes 
t\\  a  small 
;vertheless 
fort  of  its 

;n  already 
;  Homes, 
from  lives 
jmber  who 
with  the 
are  living 

unt  of  the 
ness  it  has 
ed,  and  the 
assured  us 
realised  by 
5  favourable 

increase  the 

ices,  estab- 

[ic. 

re  the  girls 

d  as  to  the 

/ard  on  the 


From  these  Homes  large  numbers,  as  at  present,  would  be 
restored  to  their  friends  and  relatives,  while  some  would  be  detained 
in  training  for  domestic  service,  and  others  passed  on  to  the  Farm 
Colony. 

On  the  Farm  they  would  be  engaged  in  various  occupations.  In  the 
Factory,  at  Bookbinding  and  Weaving  ;  in  the  Garden  and  Glass- 
houses amongst  fruit  and  flowers  ;  in  the  Dairy,  making  butter ;  in 
all  cases  going  through  a  course  of  House-work  which  will  fit  them 
for  domestic  service. 

At  every  e  tage  the  same  process  of  moral  and  religious  training, 
on  which  we  specially  rely,  will  be  carried  forward. 

There  would  probably  be  a  considerable  amount  of  inter-marriage 
amongst  the  Colonists,  and  in  this  way  a  number  of  these  girls 
would  be  absorbed  into  Society. 

A  large  number  would  be  sent  abroad  as  domestic  servants.  In 
Canada,  the  girls  are  taken  out  of  the  Rescue  Homes  as  servants, 
with  no  other  reference  than  is  gained  by  a  few  weeks'  residence 
there,  and  are  paid  as  much  as  £^  a  month  wages.  The  scarcity  ol 
domestic  servants  in  the  Australian  Colonies,  Western  States  of  America, 
Africa,  and  elsewhere  is  welil  known.  And  we  have  no  doubt  that 
on  all  hands  our  girls  with  12  months'  character  will  be  welcomed, 
the  question  of  outfit  and  passage-money  being  easily  arranged  for 
by  the  persons  requiring  their  services  advancing  the  amount,  with 
an  understanding  that  it  is  to  be  deducted  out  of  their  first  earnings. 

Then  we  have  the  Colony  Over-Sea,  which  will  require  the  service 
of  a  large  number.  Very  few  families  will  go  out  who  will  not  be 
very  glad  to  take  a  young  woman  with  them,  not  as  a  menial 
servant,  but  as  a  companion  and  friend. 

By  this  method  we  should  be  able  to  carry  out  Rescue  work  on  a 
much  larger  scale.  At  present  two  difficulties  very  largely  block  our 
way.  One  is  the  costliness  of  the  work.  The  expense  of  rescuing 
a  girl  on  the  present  plan  cannot  be  much  less  than  £7  ;  that  is, 
if  we  include  the  cost  of  those  with  whom  we  fail,  and  on  whom  the 
money  is  largely  thrown  away.  Seven  pounds  is  certainly  not  a 
very  large  sum  for  the  measure  of  benefit  bestowed  upon  the  girl  by 
bringing  her  off  the  streets,  and  that  which  is  bestowed  on  Society 
by  removing  her  from  her  evil  course.  Still,  when  the  work  runs 
into  thousands  of  individuals,  the  amount  required  becomes  con- 
siderable. On  the  plan  proposed  we  calculate  that  from  the  date  of 
their  reaching  the  Farm  Colony  they  will  earn  nearly  all  that  is 
required  for  their  support. 


^1 


!  i      1 


r  ■.,  1!^ 


1  , 

i^A 

100 


THE    RESCUE    HOMES. 


i 
H 

i; 


The  next  difficulty  which  hinders  our  expansion  in  this  depart- 
ment is  the  want  of  suitable  and  permanent  situations.  Although 
we  have  been  marvellously  successful  so  far,  having  at  this  hour 
probably,  1,200  girls  in  domestic  service  alone,  still  the  difficulty  in  this 
respect  is  great.  Families  are  naturally  shy  at  receiving  these  poor 
unfortunates  when  they  can  secure  the  help  they  need  combined  with 
unblemished  character  ;  and  we  cannot  blame  them. 

Then,  again,  it  can  easily  be  understood  that  the  monotony  of 
domestic  service  in  this  country  is  not  altogether  congenial  to  the 
tastes  of  many  of  these  girls,  who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of 
excitement  and  freedom.  This  can  be  easily  understood.  To  be 
shut  up  seven  days  a  week  with  little  or  no  intercourse,  either  with 
friends  or  with  the  outside  world,  beyond  that  which  comes  of  the 
weekly  Church  service  or  "  night  out "  with  nowhere  to  go,  as  many 
of  them  are  tied  off  from  the  Salvation  Army  Meetings,  becomes 
very  monotonous,  and  in  hours  of  depression  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  if  a  few  break  down  in  their  resolutions,  and  fall  back 
into  their  old  ways. 

On  the  plan  we  propose  there  is  something  to  cheer  these  girls  for- 
ward. Life  on  the  farm  will  be  attractive.  From  there  they  can  go  to 
a  new  country  and  begin  the  world  afresh,  with  the  possibility  of  being 
married  and  having  a  little  home  of  their  own  some  day.  With  such 
prospects,  we  think,  they  will  be  much  more  likely  to  fight  their 
way  through  seasons  of  darkness  and  temptation  than  as  at 
present. 

This  plan  will  also  make  the  task  of  rescuing  the  girls  much  more 
agreeable  to  the  Officers  engaged  in  it.  They  will  have  this  future 
to  dwell  upon  as  an  encouragement  to  persevere  with  the  girls,  and 
will  be  spared  one  element  at  least  in  the  regret  they  experience, 
when  a  girl  falls  back  into  old  habits,  namely,  that  she  earned  the 
principal  part  of  the  money  that  has  been  expended  upon  her. 

That  girls  can  be  rescued  and  blessedly  saved  even  now,  despite 
all  their  surroundings,  we  have  many  remarkable  proofs.  Of  these 
take  one  or  two  as  examples  : — 

J.  W.  was  brought  by  our  Officers  from  a  neighbourhood  which  has,  by  reason 
of  the  atrocities  perpetrated  in  it,  obtained  an  unenviable  renown,  even  among 
similar  districts  of  equally  bad  character. 

She  was  only  nineteen.  A  country  girl.  She  had  begun  the  struggle  for 
life  early  as  a  worker  in  a  large  laiindry,  and  at  thirteen  years  of  age  was  led 
away  by  an  inhuman  brute.    The  first   false  step  taken,  her  course  on  the 


A   WILD   WOMAN. 


131 


s  depart- 
Although 
:his  hour 
Ity  in  this 
nese  poor 
ined  with 

notony  of 
lial  to  the 
to  a  life  of 
d.  To  be 
ither  with 
les  of  the 
),  as  many 
3,  becomes 
not  to  be 
1  fall  bfick 

ie  girls  for- 
;y  can  go  to 
ty  of  being 
With  such 
fight  their 
ban    as   at 

much  more 
this  future 
e  girls,  and 
experience, 
earned  the 
her. 

low,  despite 
Of  these 

las,  by  reason 
1,  even  among 

e  struggle  for 
of  age  was  led 
:ourse  on  the 


downward  road  was  rapid,  and  growing  restless  and  anxious  for  more  scope 
than  that  afforded  in  a  country  town,  she  came  up  to  London. 

For  some  time  she  lived  the  life  of  extravagance  and  show,  known  to  many  of 
this  class  for  a  short  time — having  plenty  ot  money,  fine  clothes,  and  luxurious 
surroundings — until  the  terrible  disease  seized  her  poor  body,  and  she  soon  found 
herself  deserted,  homeless  and  friendless,  an  outcast  of  Society. 

When  we  found  her  she  was  hard  and  impenitent,  difficult  to  reach  even  with 
the  hand  of  love  ;  but  love  won,  and  since  that  time  she  has  been  in  two  or  three 
situations,  a  consistent  Soldier  of  an  Army  corps,  and  a  champion  War  Cry  seller. 

A  TICKET-OF-LEAVE  WOMAN. 

A.  B.  was  the  child  of  respectable  working  people — Roman  Catholics — but 
was  early  left  an  orpnan.  cme  ie»  m  witli  bad  companions,  and  became  ad- 
dicted to  drink,  going  from  bad  to  worse  until  drunkenness,  robbery,  and  harlotry 
brought  her  to  the  lowest  depths.  She  passed  seven  years  in  prison,  and  after 
the  last  offence  was  discharged  with  seven  years'  police  supervision.  Failing  «;< 
repo'"t  herself,  she  was  brought  before  the  bench. 

The  magistrate  inquired  whether  she  had  ever  had  a  chance  in  a  Home  of  any 
kind.  "  She  is  too  old,  no  one  will  take  her,"  was  the  reply,  but  a  Detective 
present,  knowing  a  little  about  the  Salvation  Army,  stepped  forward  and  ex- 
plained to  the  magistrate  that  he  did  not  think  the  Salvation  Army  refused 
any  who  applied.  She  was  formally  handed  over  to  us  in  a  deplorable  condition, 
her  clothing  the  scantiest  and  dirtiest.  For  over  three  years  she  has  given 
evidence  of  a  genuine  reformation,  during  which  time  she  has  industriously  earned 
her  own  living. 

A  WILD   WOMAN. 

In  visiting  a  slum  in  a  town  in  the  North  of  England,  our  Officers  entered  a 
hole,  unfit  to  be  called  a  human  habitation — more  like  the  den  of  some  wild 
animal  almost  the  only  furniture  of  which  was  a  filthy  iron  bedstead,  a  wooden 
box  to  serve  for  table  and  chair,  while  an  old  tin  did  duty  as  a  dustbiii. 

The  inhabitant  of  this  wretched  den  was  a  poor  woman,  who  fled  into  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  place  as  our  Officer  entered.  This  poor  wretch  was  the 
victim  of  a  brutal  man,  who  never  allowed  her  to  venture  outside  the  door, 
keeping  her  alive  by  the  scantiest  allowance  of  food.  Her  only  clothing  con- 
sisted of  a  sack  tied  round  her  body.  Her  feet  were  bare,  her  hair  malted  and 
foul,  presenting  on  the  whole  such  an  object  as  one  could  scarcely  imagine  living 
in  a  civilised  country. 

She  had  left  a  respectable  home,  forsaken  her  husband  and  family,  and  sunk 
so  low  that  the  man  who  then  claimed  her  boasted  to  the  Officer  that  he  had 
bettered  her  condition  by  taking  her  off  the  streets. 

We  took  the  poor  creature  away,  washed  and  clothed  her ;  and,  changed  in 
heart  and  life,  she  is  one  more  added  to  the  number  of  those  who  rise  up  to 
bless  the  Salvation  Army  workers. 


■1  I 


m 


'f- 


<F'!tll 


i '  ;i 


Section  6.— A   PREVENTIVE    HOME  FOR  UNFALLEN    GIRLS  WHEN 

IN  DANGER. 

There  is  a  story  told  likely  enough  to  be  true  about  a  young  girl 
who  applied  one  evening  for  admission  to  some  home  established  for 
the  purpose  of  rescuing  fallen  women.  The  matron  naturally 
inquired  whether  she  had  forfeited  her  virtue  ;  the  girl  replied  in  the 
negative.  She  had  been  kept  from  that  infamy,  but  she  was  poor 
and  friendless,  and  wrnted  somewhere  to  lay  her  head  until  she 
could  secure  work,  and  obtain  a  home.  The  matron  must  have 
pitied  her,  but  she  could  not  help  her  as  she  did  not  belong  to  the 
class  for  whose  benefit  the  Institution  was  intended.  The  girl 
pleaded,  but  the  matron  could  no'  alter  the  rule,  and  dare  not  break  it, 
they  were  so  pressed  to  find  room  for  their  own  poor  unfortunates, 
and  she  could  not  receive  her.  The  poor  girl  left  the  door  reluctantly 
but  returned  in  a  very  short  time,  and  said,  "  I  am  fallen  now,  will 
you  take  me  in  ?  " 

I  am  somewhat  slow  to  credit  this  incident ;  anyway  it  is  true  in 
spirit,  and  illustrates  the  fact  that  while  there  are  homes  to  which 
any  poor,  ruined,  degraded  harlot  can  run  for  shelter,  there  is  only 
here  and  there  a  corner  to  which  a  poor  friendless,  moneyless,  home- 
less, but  unfallen  girl  can  fly  for  shelter  from  the  storm  which  bids 
fair  to  sweep  her  away  whether  she  will  or  no  into  the  deadly  vortex 
of  ruin  which  gapes  beneath  her. 

In  London  and  all  our  large  towns  there  must  be  a  considerable 
number  of  poor  girls  who  from  various  causes  are  suddenly  plunged 
into  this  forlorn  condition  ;  a  quarrel  with  the  mistress  and  sudden 
discharge,  a  long  bout  of  disease  and  dismissal  penniless  from  the 
hospital,  a  robbery  of  a  purse,  having  to  wait  for  a  situation  until 
the  last  penny  is  spent,  and  many  other  causes  will  leave  a  girl  an 
almost  h(  peless  prey  to  the  linx-cyed  villains  who  are  ever  watching 
to  take  advantage  of  innocence  when  in  danger.  Then,  again,  what 
a  number  there  must  be  in  a  great  city  like  London  who  are  ever 
faced  with  the  alternative  of  being  turned  out  of  doors  if  they  refuse 


HOMES   TO    FLY   TO. 


1d3 


WHEN 


ing  girl 
shed  for 
laturally 
i  in  the 
vas  poor 
intil  she 
ist   have 
g  to  the 
The  girl 
break  it, 
rtunates, 
iluctantly 
now,  will 

is  true  in 
to  which 
re  is  only 
3S,  home- 
lich  bids 
ly  vortex 


to  submit  themselves  to  the  infamous  overtures  of  those  around 
them.  I  understand  that  the  Society  for  the  Protection  of  Children 
prosecute(i  last  year  a  fabulous  number  of  fathers  for  unnatural  sins 
with  their  children.  If  so  many  were  brought  to  justice,  how  many 
were  there  of  whom  the  world  never  heard  in  any  shape  or  form  ? 
We  have  only  to  imagine  how  many  a  poor  girl  is  faced  with  the 
terrible  alternative  of  being  driven  literally  into  the  streets  by 
employers  or  relatives  or  others  in  whose  pover  she  is  unfor- 
tunately placed. 

Now,  we  want  a  real  home  for  such—  a  house  to  which  any  girl 
can  fly  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  and  be  taken  in,  cared  for, 
shielded  from  the  enemy,  and  helped  into  circumstances  of  safety. 

The  Refuge  we  propose  will  be  very  much  on  the  same  principle 
as  the  Homes  for  the  Destitute  already  described.  We  should 
accept  any  girls,  say  from  fourteen  years  of  age,  who  were  without 
visible  means  of  support,  but  who  were  willing  to  work,  and  to 
conform  to  discipline.  There  would  be  various  forms  of  labour 
provided,  such  as  laundry  work,  sewing,  knitting  by  machines,  &c. 
Every  beneficial  influence  within  our  power  would  be  brought 
to  bear  on  the  rectification  and  formation  of  character.  Continued 
efforts  would  be  made  to  secure  situations  according  to  the  adapta- 
tion of  the  girls,  to  restore  wanderers  to  their  homes,  and  otherwise 
provide  for  all.  From  this,  as  with  the  other  Homes,  there  will  be 
a  way  made  to  the  Farm  and  to  the  Colony  over  the  sea.  The 
institutions  would  be  multiplied  as  we  had  means  and  found  them  to 
be  necessary,  and  made  self-supporting  as  far  as  possible. 


isiderable 
y  plunged 
id  sudden 
from  the 
lion  until 
a  girl  an 
watching 
;ain,  what 
o  are  ever 
hey  refuse 


dl 


Section  7.— ENQUIRY  OFFICE  FOR  LOST  PEOPLE. 


t 

i 

I 


Perhaps  nothing  more  vividly  suggests  the  varied  forms  of  broken- 
hearted misery  in  tlie  great  City  than  the  statement  that  i  8,000 
p)eople  are  lost  in  it  every  year,  of  whom  9,000  are  never  heard  of 
any  more,  anyway  in  this  world.  What  is  true  about  London  is, 
we  suppose,  true  in  about  the  same  proportion  of  the  rest  of  the 
country.  HusLands,  sons,  daughters,  and  mothers  are  continually 
disappearing,  and  leaving  no  trace  behind. 

In  such  cases,  where  the  relations  are  of  some  importance  in  the 
world,  they  may  interest  the  police  authorities  sufficiently  to  make 
some  enquiries  in  this  country,  which,  however,  are  not  often  suc- 
cessful ;  or  where  they  can  afford  to  spend  large  sums  of  money, 
they  can  fall  back  upon  the  private  detectivf,  who  will  continue 
these  enquiries,  not  only  at  home  but  abroad. 

But  where  the  relations  of  the  missing  individual  are  in  humble 
circumstances,  they  are  absolutely  powerless,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  to  eftecti'ally  prosecute  any  search  at  all  that  is  likely  to  be 
successful. 

Take,  for  instance,  a  cottager  in  a  village,  whose  daughter  leaves 
for  service  in  a  big  town  or  city.  Shortly  afterwards  a  letter 
arrives  informing  her  parents  of  the  satisfactory  character  of  her 
place.  The  mistress  is  kind,  the  work  easy,  and  she  likes  her 
fellow  servants.  She  is  going  to  chapel  or  church,  and  the  familj' 
are  pleased.  Letters  continue  to  arrive  of  the  same  purport,  but, 
at  length,  they  su<'  -enly  cease.  Full  of  concern,  the  mother  writes  to 
know  the  reason,  but  no  answer  comes  back,  and  after  a  time  the 
letters  are  returned  with  "  gone,  no  address,"  written  on  the 
envelope.  The  mother  writes  to  the  mistress,  or  the  father  journeys 
to  the  city,  but  no  further  information  can  be  obtained  beyond  the 
fact  that  "  the  girl  has  conducted  herself  somewhat  mysteriously  of 
late  ;  had  ceased  to  be  as  careful  at  her  work  ;  had  been  noticed  to 
be  keeping  company  with  some  young  man ;  had  given  notice  and 
disappeared  altogether." 


FINDING    THE    LOST. 


195 


Now,  what  can  these  poor  iieople  do  ?  'I'licy  apply  to  the  pohcc, 
but  they  can  do  nothing.  I'eiliaps  tliey  ask  the  clergyman  of  tlie 
parish,  who  is  equally  helpless,  and  there  is  nothing  for  them  but 
for  the  father  to  hang  his  head  and  the  mother  to  cry  herself  to 
sleep  — to  long,  and  wait,  and  pray  for  information  that  perhaps  never 
comes,  and  to  fear  the  worst. 

Now,  our  Kn(|uiry  Department  supplies  a  remedy  for  this  state  of 
things.  In  such  a  case  application  would  simply  have  to  be  made  to 
the  nearest  Salvation  Army  Officer — probably  in  her  own  village,  any 
way,  in  the  nearest  town  -  who  would  instruct  the  parents  to  write 
to  the  Chief  Office  in  London,  sending  portraits  and  all  particulars. 
Knquiries  would  at  once  be  set  on  foot,  which  would  very  possibly 
end  in  the  restoration  of  the  girl. 

The  achievements  of  this  Department,  vhich  has  only  been  in 
operation  for  a  short  time,  and  that  on  a  limited  cr,ilc,  as  a  branch  of 
Rescue  Work,  have  been  marvellous.  No  more  romantic  stories  can 
be  found  in  the  pages  of  our  most  imaginative  writers  than  those  it 
records.     We  give  three  or  four  illustrative  cases  of  recent  date. 


ENQUIRY. 

A    LOST 

Mrs.  S.,  of  New  Town,  Leeds,  wrote 
to  say  tliat  Rohekt  K.  left  England  in 
July  1889,  for  Canada  to  improve  his 
position.  He  left  a  wife  and  four  little 
children  behind,  and  on  leaving  said 
that  if  he  were  successful  out  there  he 
should  send  for  them,  but  if  not  he 
should  return. 

As  he  Was  unsuccessful,  he  left 
Montreal  in  the  Dominion  Liner 
"  Oregon,"  on  October  30th,  but  except 
receiving  a  card  from  him  ere  he 
started,  the  wife  and  friends  had  heard 
no  more  of  him  from  that  day  till  the 
date  they  wrote  us. 

They  had  written  to  the  "Dominion" 
Company,  who  replied  that  "  he  landed 
at  Liverpool  all  right,"  so,  thinking  he 
had  disappeared  upon  his  arrival,  they 
put  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  the 
Liverpool  Police,  who,  after  having  the 
case  in  hand  for  several  weeks  made 
the  usual  report — "  Cannot  be  traced." 


RESULT. 

HUSBAND. 

We  at  once  commenced  looking  for 
some  passenger  who  had  come  over 
by  the  same  steamer,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  a  little  time  we  succeeded  in 
getting  hold  of  one. 

In  our  first  interview  with  him  we 
learned  that  Robert  R.  did  not  land  at 
Liverpool,  but  when  suffering  from  de- 
pression threw  himself  overboard  three 
days  after  leaving  America,  and  was 
drowned.  We  further  elicited  that 
upon  his  death  the  sailors  rifled  his 
clothes  and  boxes,  and  partitioned  them. 

We  wrote  the  Company  reporting 
this,  and  they  promised  to  make  en- 
quiries and  amends,  but  as  too  olten 
happens,  upon  making  report  of  the 
same  to  the  family  they  took  the 
matter  into  their  own  hands,  dealt 
with  the  Company  direct,  and  in  all  pro- 
bability thereby  lost  a  good  sum  in 
compensation  which  we  should  pro- 
bably have  obtained  for  them. 


196 


ENQUIRY   OFFICE    FOR  LOST  PEOPLE. 


A    LOST   WIFE. 


KIS'      " 


I: 
I 


|i  * 

t 

c 


F.  J.  L.  asked  us  to  seek  for  his  wife, 
who  left  him  on  November  4th,  1888. 
He  feared  she  had  gone  to  live  an  im- 
moral  life ;  gave  us  two  addresses  at 
which  she  might  possibly  be  heard  of, 
and  a  description.  They  had  three 
children. 


Enquiries  at  the  addresses  given 
elicited  no  information,  but  from  ob- 
servation in  the  neighbourhood  the 
woman's  whereabouts  was  discovered. 

After  some  difficulty  our  Officer  ob- 
tained an  interview  with  the  woman, 
who  was  greatly  astonished  at  our 
having  discovered  her.  She  was  dealt 
with  faithfully  and  firmly:  the  plain 
truth  of  God  set  before  her,  and  was 
covered  with  shame  and  remorse,  and 
promised  to  return. 

We  communicated  with  Mr.  L.  A 
few  days  after  he  wrote  that  he  had 
been  telegraphed  for,  had  forgiven  his 
wife,  and  that  they  were  re-united. 

Soon  afterwards  she  wrote  expres- 
sing her  deep  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Bram- 
well  Booth  for  the  trouble  taken  in  her 
case. 


A   LOST   CHILD. 


Alice  P.  was  stolen  away  from  home 
by  Gypsies  ten  years  ago,  and  now 
longs  to  find  her  parents  to  be  restored 
to  them.  She  believes  her  home  to  be 
in  Yorkshire. 

The  Police  had  this  case  in  hand  for 
some  time,  but  failed  entirely. 


A  J 


With  these  particulars  we  advertised 
in  the  "  War  Cry."  Captain  Green, 
seeing  the  advertisement,  wrote,  April 
3rd,  from  3,  C.  S.,  M.  H.,  that  her 
Lieutenant  knew  a  family  of  the  name 
advertised  for,  living  at  Gomersal, 
Leeds. 

We,  on  the  4th,  wrote  to  this  ad- 
dress for  confirmation. 

April  6th,  we  heard  from  Mr.  P , 

that  this  lass  <s  his  child,  and  he  writes 
full  of  gratitude  and  joy,  saying  h« 
will  send  money  for  her  to  go  home. 
We,  meanwhile,  get  from  the  Police, 
who  had  long  sought  this  girl,  a  full 
description  and  photo,  which  we 
sent  to  Captain  Cutmore ;  and  on 
April  9th,  she  wrote  us  to  the  effect 
that  the  girl  exactly  answered  the 
description.  We  got  fn  n  the  parents 
15/-  for  the  fare,  and  Alice  was  once 
mo''e  restored  to  her  pareuts. 

Praise  God. 


1: 


FOUND   IN    CANADA. 


197 


this  ad- 


A    LOST    DAUGHTER. 


E.  W.  Ago  17.  Application  from  tliis 
girl's  motlier  and  brother,  who  had  lost 
all  trace  of  her  since  July,  1885,  when 
she  left  for  Canada.  Letters  had  been 
once  or  twice  received,  dated  from 
Montreal,  but  they  stopped. 

A  photo.,  full  description,  and 
handwriting  were  supplied. 


A  LOST 
Mrs.  M.,  Clevedon,  on«e  of  Harriett  P.'s 
old  mistresses,  wrote  us,  in  deep  con- 
cern, about  this  girl.  She  said  she  was  a 
good  servant,  but  was  ruined  by  the 
young  man  who  courted  her,  and  had 
since  had  three  children.  Occasionally, 
she  would  have  a  few  bright  and 
happy  weeks,  but  would  again  lapse 
into  the  "  vile  path." 

Mrs.  M.  tells  us  that  Harriett  had 
good  parents,  who  are  dead,  but  she 
still  has  a  respectable  brother  in  Hamp- 
shire. The  last  she  heard  of  her  was 
that  some  weeks  ago  she  was  staying 
at  a  Girl's  Shelter  at  Bristol,  but  had 
since  left,  and  nothing  more  had  been 
heard  of  her. 

The  enquirer  requested  us  to  find 
her,  and  in  much  faith  added,  "  I  believe 
you  are  the  only  people  who,  if  success- 
ful in  tracing  her,  can  rescue  and  do 
her  a  permanent  good." 


We  discovered  that  some  kind 
Church  people  here  had  liclpt-d  E,  VV. 
to  emigrate,  but  they  had  no  informa- 
tion as  to  her  movements  after  landing. 

Full  particulars,  with  photo.,  were 
sent  to  our  Officers  in  Canada.  The  girl 
was  not  found  in  Moutrcal.  The  infor- 
mation was  then  sent  to  Ul'licers  in  other 
towns  in  that  part  of  the  Colony. 

The  enquiry  was  continued  through 
some  months ;  and,  finally,  through 
our  Major  of  Division,  the  girl  was 
reported  to  us  as  having  been  recognised 
in  one  of  our  Barracks  and  identified. 
When  suddenly  called  hyftermvnnatnc, 
she  nearly  fainted  with  agitation. 

She  was  in  a  condition  of  terrible 
poverty  and  shame,  but  at  once  con- 
sented, on  hearing  of  her  mother's  en- 
quiries, to  go  into  one  of  our  Canadian 
Rescue  Homes.    She  is  now  doing  well. 

Her  mothers  joy  may  be  imaginec'. 

SERVANT. 

We  at  once  set  enquiries  on  fo(  t, 
and  in  the  space  of  a  few  days  found 
that  she  had  started  from  Bristol  on 
the  road  for  Bath.  Following  her  up 
we  found  that  at  a  little  place  called 
Bridlington,  on  the  way  to  Bath,  she 
had  met  a  man,  of  whom  she  enquired 
her  way.  He  hearing  a  bit  of  her 
story,  after  taking  her  to  a  public- 
house,  prevailed  upon  her  togo  home  and 
live  with  him,  as  he  had  lost  his  wife. 

It  was  at  this  stage  that  we  came 
upon  the  scene,  and  having  dealt  with 
them  both  upon  the  matter,  got  her  to 
consent  to  come  away  if  the  man 
would  not  marry  her,  giving  him  two 
days  to  make  up  his  mind. 

The  two  days'  respite  having  expired 
and,  he  being  unwilling  to  undertake 
matrimony,  we  brought  her  away,  and 
sent  her  to  one  of  our  Homes,  where 
she  is  enjoying  peace  and  penitence. 

When  we  informed  the  mistress  and 
brother  of  the  success,  they  were  greatly 
rejoiced  and  overwhelmed  U3  with 
thanks. 


i  I 


l>  I 


■  h 


■•■  -  < 


198 


ENQUIRY    OFFICE    FOR    LOST    PEOPLE. 


I 

» 

I 

f 

« 

.1 


i 


It 
II 

ft 


■i     i  ;i 


A    LOST   HUSBAND. 

In  a  seaside  home  last  Christmas  there  was  a  sorrowing  wife,  who  mourned 
over  the  basest  desertion  of  her  husband.  Wandering  from  place  to  place 
drinl<ing,  he  had  left  her  to  struggle  alone  with  four  little  ones  dependent 
upon  her  exertions. 

Knowing  her  distress,  the  captain  of  the  corps  wrote  begging  us  to  advertise 
for  the  man  in  the  Cry.  We  did  this,  but  for  some  time  heard  nothing  of  the 
result. 

Several  weeks  later  a  Salvationist  entered  a  beer-house,  where  a  group  of 
men  were  drinking,  and  began  to  distribute  IV'ar  Crys  amongst  them,  speaking 
here  and  there  upon  the  eternity  which  faced  everyone. 

At  the  counter  stood  a  man  with  a  pint  pot  in  hand,  who  took  one  of  the 
papers  passed  to  him,  and  glancing  carelessly  down  its  columns  caught  sight  of 
his  own  name,  and  was  so  startled  that  the  pot  fell  from  his  grasp  to  the  floor. 
"  Come  home,"  the  paragraph  ran,  "and  all  will  be  forgiven." 

His  sin  faced  him ;  the  thought  of  a  broken-hearted  wife  and  starving 
children  conquered  him  completely,  and  there  and  then  he  left  the  public- 
house,  and  started  to  walk  home — a  distance  of  many  miles — arriving  there 
about  midnight  the  same  night,  after  an  absence  of  eleven  months. 

The  letter  from  his  wife  telling  the  good  news  of  his  return,  spoke  also  of 
his  determination  by  God's  help  to  be  a  different  man,  and  they  are  both 
xEttendants  at  the  Salvation  Army  barracks. 

A   SEDUCER   COMPELLED   TO   PAY. 

Amongst  the  letters  that  came  to  the  Inquiry  Office  one  morning  was  one 
from  a  girl  who  asked  us  to  help  her  to  trace  the  father  of  her  child  who  had  for 
some  time  ceased  to  pay  anything  towards  its  support.  The  case  had  been 
brought  into  the  Police  Court,,  and  judgment  given  in  her  favour,  but  the  guilty 
one  had  hidden,  and  his  father  refused  to  reveal  his  whereabouts. 

We  called  upon  the  elder  man  and  laid  the  matter  before  him,  but  failed  to 
prevail  upon  him  either  to  pay  his  son's  liabilities  or  to  put  us  into  communica- 
tion with  him.  The  answers  to  an  advertisement  in  the  War  Cry,  however,  had 
brought  the  required  information  as  to  his  son's  whereabouts,  and  the  same 
morning  that  our  Inquiry  Officer  communicated  with  the  police,  and  served  a 
summons  for  the  overdue  money,  the  young  man  had  also  received  a  letter 
from  his  father  advising  him  to  leave  the  country  at  once.  He  had  given 
notice  to  his  employers ;  arjd  the  ;£i6  salary  he  received,  with  some  help  his 
father  had  sent  him  towards  the  journey,  he  was  compelled  to  hand  over  to  the 
mother  of  his  child. 


Ill  m 


TRACED    AMONG    THE    KAFFIRS. 


199 


lourned 

0  place 
pendent 

idvertise 

ig  of  the 

group  of 
speaking 

le  of  the 
it  sight  of 
the  floor. 

1  starving 
le  public- 
Mng  there 

ce  also  of 
are  both 


FOUND    IN    THE    BUSH. 

A  year  or  two  ago  a  respectable-looking  Dutch  girl  might  have  been  seen 
making  her  way  quickly  and  stealthily  across  a  stretch  of  long  rank  grass  towards 
the  shelter  of  some  woods  on  the  banks  of  a  distant  river.  Behind  her  lay  the 
South  African  town  from  which  she  had  come,  betrayed,  disgraced,  ejected  from 
her  home  with  words  of  bitter  scorn,  having  no  longer  a  friend  in  the  wide  world 
who  would  hold  out  to  her  a  hand  of  help.  What  could  there  be  better  for  her 
than  tc  plunge  into  that  river  yonder,  and  end  this  life — no  matter  what  should 
come  after  the  plunge  ?  But  Greetah  feared  the  "  future,"  and  turned  aside  to 
spend  the  night  in  darkness,  wretched  and  alone. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Seven  years  had  passed.  An  English  traveller  making  his  way  through 
Southern  Africa  halted  for  the  Sabbath  at  a  little  village  on  his  rmite.  A  ramble 
through  the  woods  brought  him  unexpectedly  in  front  of  a  kraal,  at  the  door  oi 
which  squatted  an  old  Hottentot,  with  a  fair  white-faced  child  playing  on  the 
ground  near  by.  Glad  to  accept  the  proffered  shelter  of  the  hut  from  the  burning 
sun,  the  traveller  entered,  and  was  greatly  astonished  to  find  within  a  young 
white  girl,  evidently  the  mother  of  the  frolicsome  child.  Full  of  pity  for  the 
strange  pair,  and  especially  for  the  girl,  who  wore  an  air  of  refinement  little  to  be 
expected  in  this  out-of-the-world  spot,  he  sat  down  on  the  earthen  floor,  and 
told  them  of  the  wonderful  Salvation  of  God.  This  was  Greetah,  and  the 
Englishman  would  have  given  a  great  deal  if  he  could  have  rescued  her  from 
this  miserable  lot.  But  this  was  impossible,  and  with  reluctance  he  bid  ker 
farewell. 


g  was  one 

'ho  had  for 

had  been 

the  guilty 

ut  failed  to 
:ommunica- 
jwever,  had 
i  the  same 
id  served  a 
^ed  a  letter 

had  given 
me  help  his 

over  to  the 


It  was  an  English  home.  By  a  glowing  fire  one  night  a  man  sat  alone,  and 
in  his  imaginings  there  came  up  the  vision  of  the  girl  he  had  met  in  the  Hottentot's 
Kraal,  and  wondering  whether  any  way  of  rescue  was  possible.  Then  he 
remembered  reading,  since  his  return,  the  following  paragraph  in  the  IVar  Cry : — 

"TO  THE   DISTRESSED. 

"  The  Salvation  Army  invite  parents,  relations,  and  friends  in  any  part  of  the 
world  interested  in  any  woman  or  girl  who  is  known,  or  feared  to  be,  living  in 
immorality,  or  is  in  danger  of  coming  under  the  control  of  immoral  persons,  to 
write,  stating  full  particulars,  with  names,  dates,  and  address  of  all  concerned, 
and,  if  possible,  a  photograph  of  the  person  in  whom  the  interest  is  taken. 

"  All  letters,  whether  from  these  persons  or  from  sucA  women  or  girls  them- 
selves,  will  be  regarded  as  strictly  confidential.  They  may  be  written  in  any 
language,  and  should  be  addressed  to  Mr?.  Bramwell  Booth,  loi.  Queen  Victoria 
Street,  London,  E.G." 

"  It  will  do  no  harm  to  try,  anyhow,"  exclaimed  he,  "  the  thing  haunts  me  as 
it  is,"  and  without  further  delay  he  penned  an  account  of  his  African  adventure. 


I   i 


'r.lj 


200 


ENQUIRY  OFFICE   FOR  LOST    PEOPLE. 


it  5 


■Ml 


as  full  as  possible.     The  next  African  mail  carried  instructions  to  the  Officer  ia 
Command  of  our  South  African  work. 

»  #  »  »  » 

Shortly  after,  one  of  our  Salvation  Riders  was  exploring  the  bush,  and  after 
some  difficulty  the  kraal  was  discovered — the  girl  was  rescued  and  saved.  The 
Hottentot  was  converted  afterwards,  and  both  are  now  Salvation  Soldiers. 

Apart  from  the  independent  agencies  employed  to  prosecute  this 
class  of  enquiries,  which  it  is  proposed  to  very  largely  increase,  the 
Army  possesses  in  itself  peculiar  advantages  for  this  kind  of 
investigation.     The  mode  of  operation  is  as  follows  : — 

There  is  a  Head  Centre  under  the  direction  of  a  capable  Officer 
and  assistants,  to  which  particulars  of  lost  husbands,  sons,  daughters, 
and  wives,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  forwarded.  These  are  advertised, 
except  when  deemed  inadvisable,  in  the  English  "  War  Cry,"  with 
its  300,000  circulation,  and  from  it  copied  into  the  twenty-three  other 
"  War  Crys  "  published  in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Specially 
prepared  information  in  each  case  is  sent  to  the  local  Officers  of  the 
Army  when  that  is  thought  wise,  or  Special  Enquiry  Officers  trained 
to  their  work  are  immediately  set  to  work  to  follow  up  anyclut  v/nich 
has  been  given  by  enquiring  relations  or  friends. 

Every  one  of  its  10,000  Officers,  nay,  almost  every  soldier  in  its 
ranks,  scattered,  as  they  are,  through  every  quarter  of  the  globe, 
may  be  regarded  as  an  Agent. 

A  small  charge  for  enquiries  is  .nade,  and,  where  persons  are  able, 
all  the  costs  of  the  investigation  will  be  defrayed  by  them. 


Officer  i» 


'.■  1  ■ 


,  and  after 
ived.  The 
diers. 

ecute  this 
;rease,  the 
',    kind    of 

3le  Officer 
daughters, 
advertised, 
Cry,"  with 
three  other 
Specially 
cers  of  the 
:ers  trained 
/clut  vvhich 

Idier  in  its 
the  globe, 

>ns  are  able, 


Section  8.— REFUGES  FOR  THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  STREETS. 

For  the  waifs  and  strays  of  the  streets  of  London  much  com- 
miseration is  expressed,  and  far  more  pity  is  deserved  than  is 
bestowed.  We  have  no  direct  pui  pose  of  entering  on  a  crusade  on 
their  behalf,  apart  from  our  attempt  at  changing  the  hearts  and  lives 
and  improving  the  circumstances  of  their  parents. 

Our  main  hope  for  these  wild,  youthful,  outcasts  lies  in  this 
direction.  If  we  can  reach  and  benefit  their  guardians,  morally  and 
materially,  we  shall  take  the  most  effectual  road  to  benefit  the 
children  themselves. 

Still,  a  number  of  them  will  unavoidably  be  forced  upon  us  ;  and 
we  shall  be  quite  prepared  to  accept  the  responsibility  of  dealing 
with  them,  calculating  that  our  organisation  will  enable  us  to  do  so, 
not  only  with  facility  and  efficiency,  but  with  trifling  cost  to  the 
public. 

To  begin  with.  Children's  Creches  or  Children's  Day  Homes  would 
be  established  in  the  centres  of  every  poor  population,  where  for  a 
small  charge  babies  and  young  children  can  be  taken  care  of  in  the 
day  while  the  mothers  are  at  work,  instead  of  being  left  to  the 
dangers  of  the  thoroughfares  or  the  almost  greater  peril  of  being 
burnt  to  death  in  their  own  miserable  homes. 

By  this  plan  we  shall  not  only  be  able  to  benefit  the  poor  children, 
if  in  no  other  direction  than  that  of  soap  and  water  and  a  little  whole- 
some food,  but  exercise  some  humanising  influence  upon  the  m  jthers 
themselves. 

On  the  Farm  Colony,  we  shoula  be  able  to  deal  with  the  infants 
from  the  Unions  and  other  quarters.  Our  Cottage  mothers,  with 
two  or  three  children  of  their  own,  would  readil}'  take  in  an 
extra  one  on  the  usual  terms  of  boarding  out  children,  and  nothing 
would  be  more  simple  or  easy  for  us  than  to  set  apart  some  trust- 
worthy ex;;erienced  dame  to  make  a  constant  inspection  as  to 
whether  the  children  placed  out  were  enjoying  the  necessary  conditions 
of  health  and  general  well-being.  Here  would  be  a  Baby  Farm 
carried  on  with  the  most  favourable  surroundings. 


I 


Section  g—INDUSTRIAL  SCHOOLS. 


';!».■  l/i 


Ji> 


i-    li: 


r  iffiii 


li 


I  also  propose,  at  the  earliest  opportunity,  to  give  the 
subject  of  the  industrial  training  of  boys  a  fair  trial;  and, 
if  successful,  follow  it  on  with  a  similar  one  for  girls.  I 
am  nearly  satisfied  in  my  own  mind  that  the  children  of  the 
streets  taken,  say  at  eight  years  of  age,  and  kept  till,  say 
twenty-one,  would,  by  judicious  management  and  the  utilisation  of 
tlieir  strength  and  capacity,  amply  supply  all  their  own  wants,  and 
would,  I  think,  be  likely  to  turn  out  thoroughly  good  and  capable 
members  of  the  community. 

Apart  from  the  mere  benevolent  aspect  of  the  question,  the 
present  system  of  teaching  is,  to  my  mind,  unnatural,  and  shame- 
fully wasteful  of  the  energies  of  the  childxen.  Fully  one-half  the 
time  that  boys  and  girls  are  compelled  to  sit  in  school  is  spent  to 
little  or  no  purpose — nay,  it  is  worse  than  wasted.  The  minds  of  the 
children  are  only  capable  of  useful  application  for  so  many  con- 
secutive minutes,  and  hence  the  rational  method  must  be  to  apportion 
the  time  of  the  children  ;  say,  half  the  morning's  work  to  be  given  to 
their  books,  r.nd  the  other  half  to  some  industrial  employment ;  the 
garden  would  be  most  natural  and  healthy  in  fair  weather,  while  the 
workshop  should  be  fallen  back  upon  when  unfavourable. 

By  this  method  health  would  be  promoted,  school  would  be  loved, 
the  cost  of  education  would  be  cheapenv^d,  and  the  natural  bent  of 
the  child's  capacities  would  be  discovered  and  could  be  cultivated. 
Instead  of  coming  out  of  school,  or  going  away  from  apprenticeship, 
with  the  most  precious  part  of  life  for  ever  gone  so  far  as  learning 
is  concerned,  chained  to  soiuo  pursuit  for  which  there  is  no  predilec- 
tion, and  which  promises  nothing  higher  than  mediocrity  if  not 
failure — the  work  for  which  the  mind  was  peculiarly  adapted 
and  for  which,  therefore,  it  would  have  a  natural  capacity, 
would  not  only  have  been  discovered,  but  the  bent  of  the  inclination 
(,  uUivated,  and  the  life's  work  chojen  accordingly, 


Mi 


give  th'i 
rial ;  and, 
girls.  1 
en  of  the 
till,  say 
ilisation  of 
wants,  and 
ind  capable 

iestion,  the 
and  shame- 
)ne-half  the 

is  spent  to 
minds  of  the 

many  con- 
to  apportion 
)  be  given  to 
Dyment ;  the 
er,  while  the 

uld  be  loved, 
tural  bent  of 
be  cultivated. 
)prenticeship, 
•  as  learning 
s  no  predilec- 
iocrity  if  not 
iarly   adapted 
iral    capacity, 
the  incUnation 


INDUSTRIAL  SCHOOLS. 


203 


It  is  not  for  me  to  attempt  any  reform  of  our  School  system  on 
this  model.  Bn.l  I  do  think  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  test  the  theory 
by  its  practical  working  in  an  Industrial  School  in  connection  with 
the  Farm  Colony.  I  should  begin  probably  with  children  selected 
for  their  goodness  and  capacity,  with  a  view  to  imparting  a  superior 
education,  thus  fitting  them  for  the  position  of  Officers  in  all  parts  of 
the  world,  with  the  special  object  of  raising  up  a  body  of  men 
thoroughly  trained  and  educated,  among  other  things,  to  carry  out 
all  the  branches  of  ihe  Social  work  that  are  set  forth  in  this  book, 
and  it  may  be  to  instruct  other  nations  in  the  same. 


■ 


it 


Section  io.— ASYLUMS  FOR   MORAL   LUNATICS. 

There  will  remain,  after  all  has  been  said  and  done,  one  problem 
that  has  yet  to  be  faced.  You  may  minimise  the  difficulty  every  way, 
and  it  is  your  duty  to  do  so,  but  no  amount  of  hopefulness  can  make 
us  blink  the  fact  that  when  all  has  been  done  and  every  chance 
has  been  oftered,  when  you  have  forgiven  your  brother  not  only 
seven  times  but  seventy  times  seven,  when  you  have  fished  him 
up  from  the  mire  and  put  him  on  firm  ground  only  to  see 
him  relapse  and  again  relapse  until  you  have  no  strength  left  to 
pull  him  out  once  more,  there  will  still  remain  a  residuum  of 
men  and  women  who  have,  whether  from  heredity  or  custom,  or 
hopeless  demoralisation,  become  reprobates.  After  a  certain  time, 
some  men  of  science  hold  that  persistence  in  habits  tends  to  convert 
a  man  from  a  being  with  freedom  of  action  and  will  into  a  mere 
automaton.  There  are  some  cases  within  our  knowledge  which 
seem  to  confirm  the  somewhat  dreadful  verdict  by  which  a  man 
appears  to  be  a  lost  soul  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 

There  are  men  so  incorrigibly  lazy  that  no  inducement  that 
you  can  offer  will  tempt  them  to  work  ;  so  eaten  up  by  vice 
that  virtue  is  abhorrent  to  them,  and  so  inveterately  dishonest 
that  theft  is  to  them  a  master  passion.  When  a  human  being  has 
reached  that  stage,  there  is  only  one  course  that  can  be  rationally 
pursued.  Sorrowfully,  but  remorselessly,  it  must  be  recognised 
that  he  has  become  lunatic,  morally  demented,  incapable  of  self- 
government,  and  th?*  upon  him,  therefore,  nmst  be  passed  the 
sentence  of  permanent  seclusion  from  a  world  in  which  he  is  not  fit 
to  be  at  large.  The  ultimate  destiny  of  these  poor  wretches  should 
be  a  penal  settlement  where  they  could  be  confined  during  Her 
Majesty's  pleasure  as  are  the  criminal  lunatics  at  Broadmoor. 
It  is  a  crime  against  the  race  to  allow  those  who  are  so  inveterately 
depraved  the  freedom  to  wander  abroad,  infect  their  fellows,  pre^ 


OBJECTS    OF    INFINITE    COMPASSION. 


205 


problem 
v^ery  way, 
can  make 
ry  chance 

not  only 
ished  him 
ly  to  see 
th  left  to 
piduum  of 
ustom,  or 
tain  time, 
to  convert 
;o  a  mere 

ge    which 
ch   a  man 

ment    that 

3    by  vice 

dishonest 

being  has 

rationally 

recognised 

)le  of  self- 

Dassed    the 

10  is  not  fit 

hes  should 

uring   Her 

Broadmoor. 

nveterately 

Hows,  pre^^ 


upon  Society,  and  to  multiply  their  kind.  Whatever  else  Society 
may  do,  and  suffer  to  be  done,  this  thing  it  ought  not  to  allow,  any 
more  than  it  should  allow  the  free  perambulation  of  a  mad  dog.  But 
before  we  come  to  this  I  would  have  every  possible  means  tried  to 
effect  their  reclamation.  Let  Justice  punish  them,  and  Mercy  put 
her  arms  around  them  ;  let  them  be  appealed  to  by  penalty  and  by 
reason,  and  by  every  influence,  human  and  Divine,  that  can  possibly 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  them.  Then,  if  all  alike  failed,  their  ability 
to  further  curse  their  fellows  and  themselves  should  be  stayed. 

They  will  still  remain  objects  worthy  of  infinite  compassion.  They 
should  lead  as  human  a  life  as  is  possible  to  those  who  have  fallen 
under  so  terrible.a  judgment.  They  should  have  their  own  little  cottages 
in  their  own  little  gardens,  under  the  blue  sky,  and,  if  possible,  amid  the 
green  fields.  I  would  deny  them  none  of  the  advantages,  moral,  mental, 
and  religious  which  might  minister  to  their  diseased  minds,  and  tend  to 
restore  them  to  a  better  state.  Not  until  the  breath  leaves  their 
bodies  should  we  cease  to  labour  and  wrestle  for  their  salvation 
But  when  they  have  reached  a  certain  point  access  to  their  fellow 
men  should  be  forbidden.  Between  them  and  the  wide  world  there 
should  be  reared  an  impassable  barrier,  which  once  passed  should  be 
recrossed  no  more  for  ever.  Such  a  course  must  be  wiser  than  allow- 
ing them  to  go  in  and  out  among  their  fellows,  carrying  with  them 
the  contagion  of  moral  leprosy,  and  multiplying  a  progeny  doomed 
before  its  birth  to  inherit  the  vices  and  diseased  cravings  of  their 
unhappy  parents. 

To  these  proposals  three  leading  objections  will  probably  be  raised 
I.  It  may  be  said  that  to  shut  out  men  and  women  from 
that  liberty  which  is  their  universal  birthright  would  be 
cruel. 

To  this  it  might  be  sufficient  to  reply  that  this  is  already  done  ; 
twenty  years'  immurement  is  a  very  common  sentence  passed  upon 
wrong-doers,  and  in  some  cases  the  law  goes  as  far  as  to  inflict 
penal  servitude  for  life.  But  we  say  further  that  it  would  be  far 
more  merciful  treatment  than  that  which  is  dealt  out  to  them  at 
present,  and  it  would  be  far  more  likely  to  secure  a  pleasant  existence. 
Knowing  their  fate  they  would  soon  become  resigned  to  it.  Habits 
of  industry,  sobriety,  and  kindness  with  them  w  juld  create  a  restful- 
ness  of  spirit  which  goes  far  on  in  the  direction  of  happiness,  and  if 
religion  were  added  it  would  make  that  happiness  complete. 
There  might  be  aet  continually  before  them  a  large  measure  of  free- 


''  1 

m 


206 


ASYLUMS   FOR   lv,ORAL    LUNATICS. 


11    !! 


r 

J) 
* 

I 

« 
J- 

> 


li:    ! 


il  I 


U      i    [ 


t' 


.'v'  -. 

1  h 

i  i\ 

'  M 

'i'-' 

^  ill 
i  III 

dom  and  more  frequent  intercourse  with  the  world  in  the  shape  of 
correspondence,  newspapers,  and  even  occasional  interviews  with 
relatives,  as  rewards  for  well-doing.  And  in  sickness  and  old  age 
their  latter  days  might  be  closed  in  comfort.  In  fact,  so  far  as  this 
class  of  people  were  concerned,  we  can  see  that  they  would  be  far 
better  circumstanced  for  happiness  in  this  life  and  in  the  life  to 
come  than  in  their  present  liberty — if  a  life  spent  alternatively 
in  drunkenness,  debauchery,  and  crime,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the 
prison  on  the  other,  can  be  called  liberty. 

2,  It  may  be  said  that  the  carrying  out  of  such  a  sug- 

gestion would  be  too  expensive. 
To  this  we  rej:ly  that  it  would  have  to  be  very  costly  to  exceed 
the  expense  in  which  all  such  charact-  rs  involve  the  nation  under 
the  present  regulations  of  vice  and  crime.  But  there  is  no  need  for 
any  great  expense,  seeing  that  after  the  first  outlay  the  inmates  of 
such  an  institution,  if  it  were  fixed  upon  the  land,  would  readily 
earn  all  that  would  be  required  for  their  support. 

3.  But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  impossible. 

It  would  certainly  be  impossible  other  than  as  a  State  regulation. 
But  it  would  surely  be  a  very  simple  matter  to  enact  a  law  which 
should  decree  that  after  an  individual  had  suffered  a  certain  number 
of  convictions  for  crime,  drunkenness,  or  vagrancy,  he  should  forfeit 
his  freedom  to  roam  abroad  and  curse  his  fellows.  When  I  in- 
clude vagrancy  in  this  list,  I  do  it  on  the  supposition  that  the  oppor- 
tunity and  ability  for  work  are  present.  Otherwise  it  seems  to  me 
most  heartless  to  punish  a  hungry  man  who  begs  for  food  because 
he  can  in  no  other  way  obtain  it.  But  with  the  opportunity  and 
ability  for  work  I  would  count  the  solicitation  of  charity  a  crime,  and 
punish  it  as  such.  Anyway,  if  a  man  would  not  work  of  his  own 
free  will  I  would  compel  him. 


n» 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ASSISTANCE  IN  GENERAL, 

There  are  many  who  are  not  lost,  who  need  help.  A  little  assis- 
tance given  to-day  will  perhaps  prevent  the  need  of  having  to  save 
them  to-morrow.  There  are  some,  who,  after  they  have  been 
rescued,  will  still  need  a  friendly  hand.  The  very  service  which  we 
have  rendered  them  at  starting  makes  it  obligatory  upon  us  to  finish 
the  good  work.  Hitherto  it  may  be  objected  that  the  Scheme  has 
dealt  alrr.ost  exclusively  with  those  who  are  more  or  less  disreputable 
and  desperate.  This  was  inevitable.  We  obey  our  Divine  Master 
and  seek  to  save  those  who  are  lost.  But  because,  as  I  said  at  the 
beginning,  urgency  is  claimed  rightly  for  those  who  have  no  helper, 
we  do  not,  therefore,  forget  the  needs  and  the  aspirations  of  the 
decent  working  people  who  are  poor  indeed,  but  who  keep  their  feet, 
who  have  not  fallen,  and  who  help  themselves  and  help  each  other. 
They  constitute  the  bulk  of  the  nation.  There  is  an  uppercrust  and 
a  submerged  tenth.  But  the  hardworking  poor  people,  who  earn 
a  pound  a  week  or  less,  constitute  in  every  land  the  majority  of  the 
population.  We  cannot  forget  them,  for  we  are  at  home  with  them. 
We  belong  to  them  and  many  thousands  of  them  belong  to  us.  We 
are  always  studying  how  to  help  them,  and  we  think  this  can  be  done 
in  many  ways,  some  of  which  I  proceed  to  describe. 


•I> 


>:       ■!! 


Ml 


1. 

'1          :    • 

Section  i.-IMPROVED  LODGINGS. 

The  necessity  for  a  superior  class  of  lodgings  for  the  poor  men 
rescued  at  our  Shelters  has  been  forcing  itself  already  upon  our 
notice,  and  demanding  attention.  One  of  the  first  things  that 
happens  when  a  man,  lifted  out  of  the  gutter,  has  obtained  a 
situation,  and  is  earning  a  decent  livelihood,  is  for  him  to  want  some 
better  accommodation  than  that  afforded  at  the  Shelters.  We  have 
some  hundreds  on  our  hands  now  who  can  afford  to  pay  for  greater 
comfort  and  seclusion.  These  are  continually  saying  to  us  something 
like  the  following  : — 

'*  The  Shelters  are  all  very  well  when  a  man  is  down  in  his  luck. 
They  have  been  a  good  thing  for  us ;  in  fact,  had  it  not  been  for 
them,  we  would  still  have  been  without  a  friend,  sleeping  on  the 
Embankment,  getting  our  living  dishonestly,  or  not  getting  a  living 
at  all.  We  have  now  got  work,  and  wqnt  a  bed  to  sleep  on,  and  a 
room  to  ourselves,  and  a  box,  or  something  where  we  can  stow  away 
our  bits  of  things.  Cannot  you  do  something  for  us  ?  "  We  have 
replied  that  there  were  Lodging-houses  elsewhere,  which,  now  that 
they  were  in  work,  they  could  afford  to  pay  for,  where  they  would 
obtain  the  comfort  they  desired.  To  this  they  answer,  "  That  is  all 
very  well.  We  know  there  are  these  places,  and  that  we  could  go 
to  them.  But  then,"  they  said,  "  you  see,  here  in  the  Shelters  are 
our  mates,  who  think  as  we  do.  And  there  is  the  prayer,  and  the 
meeting,  and  kind  influence  every  night,  that  helps  to  keep  us 
straight  We  would  like  a  better  place,  but  if  you  cannot  find  us 
one  we  would  rather  stop  in  the  Shelter  and  sleep  on  the  floor,  as 
we  have  been  doing,  than  go  to  something  more  complete,  get  into 
bad  company,  and  so  fall  back  again  to  where  we  were  before." 

But  this,  although  natural,  is  not  desirable ;  for,  if  the  process 
went  on,  in  course  of  time  the  whole  of  the  Shelter  Dep6ts  would  be 
taken   ip  by  persons  who  had  risen  above  the  class  for  whom  they 


THE    POOR    MAN'S    METROPOLE. 


209 


were  originally  destined.  I  propose,  therefore,  to  draft  those  who  get 
on,  but  wish  to  continue  in  connection  with  the  Army,  into  a  superior 
lodging-house,  a  sort  of 

POOR    man's    METROPOLE, 

managed  on  the  same  principles,  but  with  better  accommodation 
in  every  way,  which,  I  anticipate,  would  be  self-supporting  from 
the  first.  In  these  homes  there  would  be  separate  dormitories, 
good  sitting-rooms,  cooking  conveniences,  baths,  a  hall  for  meetings, 
and  many  other  comforts,  of  which  all  would  have  the  benefit  at  as 
low  a  figure  above  cost  price  as  will  not  only  pay  interest  on  the 
original  outlay,  but  secure  us  against  any  shrinkage  of  capital. 

Something  superior  in  this  direction  will  also  be  required  for  the 
women.  Having  begun,  we  must  go  on.  Hitherto  I  have  proposed 
to  deal  only  with  single  men  and  single  women,  but  one  of  the  conse- 
quences of  getting  hold  of  these  men  very  soon  makes  itself  felt.  Your 
ragged,  hungry,  destitute  Out-of-Work  in  almost  every  case  is  married. 
When  lie  comes  to  us  he  comes  as  single  and  is  dealt  witli  a? 
such,  but  after  you  rouse  in  him  aspirations  for  better  things  he 
remembers  the  wife  whom  he  has  probably  enough  deserted,  or 
left  from  sheer  inability  to  provide  her  anything  to  eat.  As  soon  as 
such  a  man  finds  himself  under  good  influence  and  fairly  employed  his 
first  thought  is  to  go  and  look  after  the  "Missis."  There  is  very 
little  reality  about  any  change  of  heart  in  a  married  man  who  docs 
not  thus  turn  in  sympathy  and  longing  towards  his  wife,  and  the 
more  successful  we  are  in  dealing  with  these  people  the  more 
inevitable  it  is  that  we  shall  be  confronted  with  married  couplts 
who  in  turn  demand  that  we  should  provide  for  them  lodgings. 
This  we  propose  to  do  also  on  a  commercial  footing.  I  see  greatt  r 
developments  in  this  direction,  one  of  which  will  be  described  in  the 
chapter  relating  to  Suburban  Cottages.  The  Model-lodging  House 
for  Married  People  is,  however,  one  of  those  things  that  roust  be 
provided  as  an  adjunct  of  the  Food  and  Shelter  Depdts. 


<  'f 


I    i 


-ill 


iJf 


'Win 


Section   2.— MODEL    SUBURBAN    VILLAGES. 


I 

t 

* 

t 

m 

J! 


( 

i 

t 

.  1 

! 

»; 

« 

1:         1 

j' 

1   -r 

1, 

iri 

I 


•1  '\'i 


m 


i 


As  I  have  repeatedly  stated  already,  but  will  state  once  more, 
for  it  is  important  enough  to  bear  endless  repetition,  one  of  the 
first  steps  wliich  must  inevitably  be  taken  in  the  reformation  of  this 
class,  is  to  make  for  them  decent,  healthy,  pleasant  homes,  or  help 
them  to  make  them  for  themselves,  which,  if  possible,  is  far  better. 
I  do  not  regard  the  institution  of  any  first,  second,  or  third-class 
lodging-houses  as  affording  anything  but  palliatives  of  the  existing 
distress.  To  substitute  life  in  a  boarding-house  for  life  in  the 
streets  is,  no  doubt,  an  immense  advance,  but  it  is  by  no  means 
the  ultimatum.  Life  in  a  boarding-house  is  better  than  the  worst, 
but  it  is  far  from  being  the  best  form  of  human  existence.  Hence, 
the  object  I  constantly  keep  in  view  is  how  to  pilot  those  persons 
who  have  been  set  on  their  feet  again  by  means  of  the  Food  and 
Shelter  Depots,  and  who  have  obtained  employment  in  the  City, 
into  the  possession  of  homes  of  their  own. 

Neither  can  1  regard  the  one,  or  at  most  two,  rooms  in  which  the 
large  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  our  great  cities  are  compelled 
to  spend  their  days,  as  a  solution  of  the  question.  The  over- 
crowding which  fills  every  separate  room  of  a  tenement  with  a 
human  litter,  and  compels  family  life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  to 
be  lived  within  the  four  walls  of  a  single  apartment,  must  go  on 
reproducing  in  endless  succession  all  the  terrible  evils  which  such  a 
state  of  things  must  inevitably  create. 

Neither  can  I  be  satisfied  with  the  vast,  unsightly  piles  of 
barrack-like  buildings,  which  are  only  a  slight  advance  upon  the 
Union  Bastille— dubbed  Model  Industrial  Dwellings — so  much  in 
fashion  at  present,  as  being  a  satisfactory  settlement  of  the  burning 
question  of  the  housing  of  the  poor. 

As  a  contribution  to  this  question,  I  propose  the  establishment  of 
a  series  of  Industrial  Settlements  or  Suburban  Villages,  lying  out  in 


WORKMEN'S    COTTAGES. 


211 


the  country,  within  a  reasonable  distance  of  all  our  great  cities, 
composed  of  cottages  of  suitable  size  and  construction,  and  with  all 
needful  comfort  and  accommodation  for  the  families  of  working-men, 
the  rent  of  which,  together  with  the  railway  fare,  and  other 
economic  conveniences,  should  be  within  the  reach  of  a  family  of 
moderate  income. 

This  proposal  lies  slightly  apart  from  the  scope  of  this  book, 
otherwise  I  should  be  disposed  to  cloborjite  the  project  at  greater 
length.  I  may  say,  however,  that  what  I  Iierc  propose  has  been 
carefully  thought  out,  .ind  is  of  a  perfectly  practical  character.  In 
the  planning  of  it  I  have  received  some  valuable  assistance  from  a 
friend  who  has  had  considerable  experience  in  the  building  trade, 
and  he  stakes  his  professional  reputation  on  its  feasibility.  The 
following,  however,  may  be  taken  as  a  rough  outline  : — 

The  Village  should  not  be  more  than  twelve  miles  from  town  ; 
should  be  in  a  dry  and  healthy  situation,  and  on  a  line  of  railway. 
It  is  not  absolutely  ncccsFary  that  it  should  be  near  a  station,  seeing 
that  the  company  would,  for  their  own  interests,  immediately 
erect  one. 

The  Cottages  should  be  built  of  the  best  material  and  workman- 
ship. This  would  be  effected  most  satisfactorily  by  securing  a 
contract  for  the  labour  only,  the  projectors  of  the  Scheme  purchasing 
the  materials  and  supplying  them  direct  from  the  manufacturers  to 
the  builders.  The  cottages  would  consist  of  three  or  four  rooms, 
with  a  scullery,  and  out-building  in  the  garden.  The  cottages 
should  be  built  in  terraces,  each  having  a  good  garden 
.attached. 

Arrangements  should  be  made  for  the  erection  of  from  one 
thousand  to  two  thousand  houses  at  the  onset. 

In  the  Village  a  Co-operative  Goods  Store  should  be  established, 
supplying  everything  that  was  really  necessary  for  the  villagers  at 
the  most  economic  i  rices. 

The  sale  of  intoxicating  drink  should  be  strictly  forbidden  on  the 
Estate,  and,  if  possible,  the  landowner  from  whom  the  land  is 
obtained  should  be  tied  off  from  allowing  any  licences  to  be  held  on 
any  other  portio.i  of  the  adjoining  land. 

It  is  thought  that  the  Railway  Company,  in  consideration  of  the 
inconvenience  and  suffering  they  have  inflicted  on  the  poor,  and  in 
their  own  interests,  might  be  induced  to  make  the  following 
ad\    .itageous  arrangements  : — 


J  II: 


212 


MODEL    SUBURBAN    VILLAGES. 


(l)  The  conveyance  of  each  member  actually  liviiif;  in  Ihc  village 
to  and  from  London  at  the  rate  of  sixpence  per  week.      Kach  pass 


should  have  on  it  the  portrait  of  the  owner,  and  be  fastened  to  some 
article  of  the  dress,  and  be  available  only  by  Workmen's  Trains 
running  early  and  late  and  during  certain  hours  of  the  day,  when  the 
trains  are  almost  empty. 

(2)  The  conveyance  of  goods  and  parcels  should  be  at  half  the 
ordinary  rates. 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  large  landowners  would  gladly 
give  one  hundred  acres  of  land  in  view  of  the  immensely  advanced 
values  of  the  surrounding  property  wliich  would  immediately  follow, 
seeing  that  the  erection  of  one  thousand  or  two  thousand  cottages 
would  constitute  the  nucleus  of  a  much  larger  Settlement. 

Lastly,  the  rent  of  a  four-roomed  cottage  must  not  exceed  3s. 
per  week.  Add  to  this  the  sixpenny  ticket  to  and  from  London, 
and  you  have  3s.  6d.,  and  if  the  company  should  insist  on  is.,  it 
will  make  4s.,  for  which  there  would  be  all  the  advantages  of  a 
comfortable  cottage — of  which  it  would  be  possible  for  the  tenant  to 
become  the  owner — a  good  garden,  pleasant  surroundings,  and  other 
influences  promotive  of  the  health  and  happiness  of  the  family.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  remark  that  in  connection  with  this  Village 
there  will  be  perfect  freedom  of  opinion  on  all  matters.  A  glance  at 
the  ordinary  homes  of  the  poor  people  of  this  great  City  will  at  once 
assure  us  that  such  a  village  would  be  a  veritable  Paradise  to  them, 
and  that  were  four,  five,  or  six  settlements  provided  at  once  they 
would  not  contain  a  tithe  of  the  people  who  would  throng  to  occupy 
them. 


r'.  ;i; 


".  n 


'M 


Section  3.— THE  POOR  MAN'S  BANK. 


Tf  the  love  of  money  is  tlic  root  of  all  evil,  the  want  of  money  is 
the  cause  of  an  immensity  of  evil  and  trouble.  The  moment  you 
begin  practically  to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  the  people,  you  discover 
that  the  eternal  want  of  pence  is  one  of  their  greatest  diflicultics.  In 
my  most  sanguine  moments  I  have  never  dreamed  of  smootiiing  this 
difficulty  out  of  the  lot  of  man,  but  it  is  surely  no  unattainable  ideal 
to  cstabli  li  a  Poor  Man's  Bank,  which  will  extend  to  tiie  lower 
middle  class  and  the  working  population  the  advantages  of  the  credit 
system,  which  is  the  very  foundation  of  our  boasted  commerce. 

It  might  be  better  that  there  should  be  no  such  thing  as  credit, 
that  no  one  should  lend  money,  and  that  everyone  should  be  com- 
pelled to  rely  solely  upon  whatever  ready  money  he  may  possess 
from  day  to  day.  But  if  so,  let  us  apply  the  principle  all  round  ;  do 
not  let  us  glory  in  our  world-wide  commerce  and  boast  ourselves  in 
our  riches,  obtained,  in  so  many  cases,  by  the  ignoring  of  this  prin- 
ciple. If  it  is  right  for  a  great  merchant  to  have  dealings  with  his 
banker,  if  it  is  indispensable  for  the  due  carrying  on  of  the  business 
of  the  rich  men  that  they  should  have  at  their  elbow  a  credit  system 
which  will  from  time  to  time  accommodate  them  with  needful 
advances  and  enable  them  to  stand  up  against  the  pressure  of 
sudden  demands,  which  otherwise  would  wreck  them,  then  surely 
the  case  is  still  stronger  for  providing  a  similar  resource  for  the 
smaller  men,  the  weaker  men.  At  present  Society  is  organised  far 
too  much  on  the  principle  of  giving  to  him  who  hath  so  that  he 
shall  have  more  abundantly,  and  taking  away  from  him  who  hath 
not  even  that  which  he  hath. 

If  we  arc  to  really  benefit  the  poor,  we  can  only  do  so  by  practical 
measures.  We  have  merely  to  look  I'ound  and  see  the  kind  of 
advantages  which  wealthy  men  find  indispensable  for  the  due 
management  of  their  business,  and  ask  ourselves  whether  poor  men 


I' 


214 


THE    POOR    MAN'S    BANK. 


■f 


r 

» 

'X 
« 

t 

* 
.fc 


M 


cannot  be  supplied  with  the  same  opportunities.     The  reason  why 

they  '.re  not  is  obvious.     To  supply  t^^e  needs  of  the  rich  is  a  means 

of  making  yourself  rich  ;    to  supply  the   needs   of  the   poor   will 

involve  you  in  trouble  so  out  of  proportion  to  the  profit  that  the 

game  may  not  be  worth  the  candle.      Men  go  into  banking  and 

other  businesses   for  the   sake   of  obtaining   what    the    America.^ 

humourist  said  was  the  chief  end  of  man  in  these  modern  times, 

namely,  "ten  per  cent."     To  obtain  a  ter.  per  cent,  what  will  not  men 

do?     They  will   penetrate  the   bowels   of  the   earth,   explore   the 

depths  of  the  sea,  ascend  the  snow-capped  mountain's  highest  peak, 

or  navigate  the  air,  if  they  can  ^  e  guaranteed  a  ten  per  cent.     1  do 

not  venture  to  suggest  that  the  business  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank 

would  yield  ten  per  cent.,  or  even  five,  but  I  think  it  might  be  made 

to  pay  its  expenses,  and  the  resulting  gain  to  the  community  would 

be  enormous. 

Ask  any  merchant  in  your  acquaintance  where  his  business 
would  be  if  he  had  no  banker,  and  then,  when  you  have  his  answei , 
ask  yourself  whether  it  would  not  be  an  object  worth  taking  sonic 
trouble  to  secure,  to  furnisii  the  great  mass  of  our  fellow  country- 
men, on  sound  business  principles  with  the  advantages  of  the  credit 
system,  which  is  found  to  work  so  beneficially  for  the  "  well-to-do  " 
few. 

Some  day  I  hope  the  State  may  be  sufficiently  enlightened  to  take 
up  this  business  itself ;  at  present  it  is  left  in  the  hands  of  the 
pawnbroker  and  the  loan  agency,  and  a  set  of  sharks,  who  cruelly  prey 
upon  the  interests  of  the  poor.  The  establishment  of  land  banks, 
where  the  poor  man  is  almost  always  a  peasant,  has  been  one  of  tlic 
features  of  modern  legi'^lrtion  in  Russia,  Germany,  and  elsewhere. 
The  institution  of  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  will  be,  I  hope,  before  long, 
one  of  the  recognised  objects  of  our  own  government. 

Pending  that  I  venture  to  throw  out  a  suggestion,  without  in  any 
way  pledging  myself  to  add  this  branch  of  activity  to  the  already 
gigantic  range  of  operations  foreshadowed  in  this  book — Would  it  not 
be  possible  for  some  philanthropists  with  capital  to  establish  on 
clearly  defined  principles  a  Poor  Man's  Bank  for  the  making  of  small 
loans  on  good  security,  or  making  advances  to  those  who  are  in 
danger  of  being  overwhelmed  by  sudden  financial  pressure — in  fact,  for 
doing  for  the  "  little  man  "  what  all  the  banks  do  for  the  "  big  man  "  ? 

Meanwhile,  should  it  enter  into  the  heart  of  some  benevolently  dis- 
posed possessor  of  wealth  to  give  the  price  oi  a  racehorse,  or  of  an 


PERSONAL    SECURITY. 


215 


"  old  Master,"  to  form  the  nucleus  ci"  the  necessary  capital,  I  will  cer- 
tainly experiment  in  this  direction, 

I  can  anticipate  the  sneer  of  the  cynic  who  scoffs  at  what  he  calls 
my  glorified  pawnshop.  I  am  indifferent  to  his  sneers.  A  Mont  de 
Piete — the  very  name  (^'.ount  of  Piety)  shows  that  the  Poor  Man's 
Bank  is  regarded  as  anything  but  an  objectionable  institution  acrois 
the  Channel — might  be  an  excellent  institution  in  England.  Owing, 
however,  to  the  vested  interests  of  ths  existing  traders  it  might  be 
impossible  for  the  State  to  establish  it,  excepting  at  a  rui.ious 
expense.  There  would  be  no  difficolty,  however,  of  instituting  a 
private  Mont  de  Piete,  which  would  confer  an  incalculable  boon  upon 
the  struggling  poor. 

Further,  I  am  by  no  means  indisposed  to  recognise  the  necessity  of 
dealing  with  this  subject  in  connection  with  the  Labour  Bureau, 
provided  that  one  clearly  recognised  principle  can  be  acted  upon. 
That  principle  is  that  a  man  shall  be  free  to  bind  himself  as  security 
for  the  repayment  of  a  loan,  that  is  to  pledge  himself  to  work  for  his 
rations  until  such  time  a..-  he  has  repaid  capital  and  interest. 
An  illustration  or  twc  will  explain  what  I  mean.  Here  is  a 
carpenter  who  comes  tc  our  Labour  shed  ;  he  is  an  honest,  decent 
man,  who  has  by  sickness  or  some  other  calamity  been  reduced  to 
destitution.  He  has  by  degrees  pawned  one  article  after  another 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together,  until  at  last  he  has  been 
compelled  to  pawn  his  tools.  'Ve  register  him,  and  an  employer 
comes  along  who  wants  a  carpv  nter  whom  we  can  recommend. 
We  at  once  suggest  this  man,  but  then  arises  this  difficulty. 
He  has  no  tools ;  what  are  we  to  do  ?  As  things  are  at 
present,  the  man  loses  the  jc  j  and  continues  on  our  hands. 
Obviously  it  is  most  desirable  in  the  interest  of  the  community, 
that  the  man  should  get  his  tools  out  of  pawn  ;  but  who  -s  to 
take  the  responsibility  of  advancing  the  money  to  redeem  cham? 
This  difficulty  might  be  met,  I  thnik,  by  the  man  entering  into  a 
legal  undertaking  to  make  over  his  wages  to  us,  or  such  proportion 
of  them  as  would  be  convenient  to  his  circumstances,  we  in  return 
undertaking  to  find  him  in  food  and  siielter  until  such  time 
as  he  has  repaid  the  advance  made.  That  obligation  it  would  be 
the  truest  kindness  to  enforce  with  Rhadamantine  severity.  Until 
the  man  is  out  of  debt  he  is  not  his  own  master.  All  that  he  can 
make  over  his  actual  rations  and  Shelter  money  should  belong  to  his 
creditor    Of  course  such  an  arrangement  might  be  varied  indefinitely 


f  ii 


216 


THE    POOR    MAN'S    BANK. 


m 

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by  private  agreement ;  the  repayment  of  instalments  could  be  spread 
over  a  longer  or  shorter  time,  but  the  mainstay  of  the  whole  principle 
would  be  the  execution  of  a  legal  agreement  by  which  the  man  makes 
over  the  whole  product  of  his  labour  to  the  Bank  until  he  has  repaid 
his  debt. 

Take  another  instance.  A  clerk  who  has  been  many  years  in  a 
situation  and  has  a  large  family,  which  he  has  brought  up  respectably 
and  educated.  He  has  every  prospect  of  retiring  in  a  few  years 
upon  a  superannuating  allowance,  but  is  suddenly  confronted  by  a  claim 
often  through  no  fault  of  his  own,  of  a  sum  of  fifty  or  a  hundred 
pounds,  which  is  quite  beyond  his  means.  He  has  been  a  careful, 
saving  man,  who  has  never  borrowed  a  penny  in  his  life,  and  does 
not  know  where  to  turn  in  his  emergency.  If  he  cannot  raise  this 
money  he  will  be  sold  up,  his  family  will  be  scattered,  his  situation 
and  his  prospective  pension  will  be  lost,  and  blank  ruin  will  stare 
him  in  the  face.  Now,  were  he  in  receipt  of  an  income  of  ten  times 
the  amount,  he  would  probably  have  a  banking  account,  and,  in 
consequence,  he  able  to  secure  an  advance  of  all  he  needed  from  his 
banker.  Why  should  he  not  be  able  ^o  pledge  his  salar}',  or  a 
portion  of  it,  to  an  Institution  which  would  enable  him  to  pay  of! 
his  debt,  on  terms  that,  while  sufficiently  remunerative  to  the 
bank,  Vvould  not  unduly  embarrass  him  ? 

At  present  what  does  the  poor  wretch  do  ?  He  consults  his 
friends,  who,  it  is  quite  possible,  are  as  hard  up  as  himself,  or  he 
applies  to  some  loan  agency,  and  as  likely  as  not  falls  into  the 
hands  of  sharpers,  who  indeed,  let  him  have  the  money,  but  at  interest 
altogether  out  of  proportion  to  the  risk  which  they  run,  and  use  the 
advantage  which  their  position  gives  them  to  extort  every  penny  he 
has.  A  great  black  book  written  within  and  without  in  letters  of 
lamentation,  mourning,  and  woe  might  be  written  on  the  dealings  of 
tliese  usurers  with  their  victims  in  every  land. 

It  is  of  little  service  denouncing  these  extortioners.  They  have 
always  existed,  and  probably  always  wil  ;  but  what  we  can  do 
is  to  circumscribe  the  range  of  their  operations  and  the  nninbcr 
of  their  victims.  This  can  only  be  done  by  a  legitimate  and 
merciful  provision  for  these  poor  creatures  in  their  hours  of 
desperate  need,  so  as  to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  hands  of 
tiiese  remorseless  wretches,  who  have  wrecked  the  fortunes  of 
thousands,  and  driven  many  a  decent  man  to  suicide  or  a  pre- 
mature grave. 


HARDSHIP   OF    THE    HIRE    SYSTEM. 


217 


There  are  endless  ramifications  of  this  principle,  which  do  not 
need  to  be  described  here,  but  before  leaving  the  subject  I  may 
allude  to  an  evil  which  is  a  cruel  reality,  alas  !  to  a  multitude  of 
unfortunate  men  and  women.  I  refer  to  the  working  of  the  Hire 
System.  The  decent  poor  man  or  woman  who  is  anxious  to 
earn  an  honest  penny  by  the  use  of,  it  may  be  a  mangle,  or  a 
sewing-machine,  a  lathe,  or  some  other  indispensable  instrument, 
and  is  without  the  few  pounds  necessary  to  buy  it,  must  take  it  on 
the  Hire  System — that  is  to  say,  for  the  accommodation  of  being 
allowed  to  pay  for  the  machine  by  instalments — he  is  charged,  in 
addition  to  the  full  market  value  of  his  purchase,  ten  or  twenty  times 
the  amount  of  what  would  be  a  fair  rate  of  interest,  and  more  than 
this  if  he  should  at  any  time,  through  misfortune,  fail  in  his  payment, 
the  total  amount  already  paid  will  be  confiscated,  the  machine  seized, 
and  the  money  lost. 

Here  again  we  fall  back  on  our  analogy  of  what  goes  on  in  a 
small  community  where  neighbours  know  each  other.  Take,  for 
instance,  when  a  lad  who  is  recognised  as  bright,  promising,  honest, 
and  industrious.,  who  wants  to  make  a  start  in  life  which  requires 
some  little  outlay,  his  better-to-do  neighbour  will  often  assist 
him  by  providing  the  capital  necessary  to  enable  him  to  make 
a  way  for  himself  in  the  world.  The  neighbour  does  this  because 
he  knows  the  lad,  because  the  family  is  at  least  related  by  ties  of 
neighbourhood,  and  the  honour  of  the  lad's  family  is  a  security  upon 
which  a  man  may  safely  advan.ce  a  small  sum.  All  this  would 
equally  apply  to  a  destitute  widow,  an  artizan  suddenly  thrown  out 
of  work,  an  orphan  family,  or  the  like.  In  the  large  City  all  this 
kindly  helpfulness  disappears,  and  with  it  go  all  those  small  acts  of 
service  which  are,  as  it  were,  the  buffers  which  save  men  from 
being  crushed  to  death  against  the  iron  walls  of  circumstances.  We 
must  try  to  replace  them  in  some  way  or  other  if  we  are  to  get 
back,  not  to  the  Garden  of  Eden,  but  to  the  ordinary  conditions 
of  life,  as  they  exist  in  a  healthy,  small  community.  No  institu- 
tion, it  is  true,  can  ever  replace  the  magi'  bond  of  personal 
friendship,  but  if  we  have  the  whole  mass  o^  Society  permeated 
in  every  direction  by  brotherly  associations  established  for  the 
purpose  of  mutual  help  and  sympathising  counsel,  it  is  not  an 
impossible  thing  to  believe  that  we  shall  be  able  to  do  something 
to  restore  the  missing  element  in  modern  civilisation. 


ir   " 


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« 

« 

.k 
k 


i:ii 


i«iii 


^^f 


Section  4.— THE  POOR  MANS  LAWYER. 

The  moment  you  set  about  dealing  with  the  wants  of  the  people, 
you  discover  that  many  of  their  difficulties  are  not  material,  but 
moral.  There  never  was  a  greater  mistake  than  to  imagine  that  you 
have  only  to  fill  a  man's  stomach,  and  clothe  his  back  in  order  to 
secure  his  happiness.  Man  is,  much  more  than  a  digestive  apparatus, 
liable  to  get  out  of  order.  Hence,  while  it  is  important  to  remember 
that  man  has  a  stomach,  it  is  also  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  that  he 
has  a  heart,  and  a  mind  that  is  frequently  sorely  troubled  by  diffi- 
culties which,  if  he  lived  in  a  friendly  world,  would  often  disappear. 
A  man,  and  still  more  a  woman,  stands  often  quite  as  much  in  need 
of  a  trusted  adviser  as  he  or  she  does  of  a  dinner  or  a  dress.  Many 
a  poor  soul  is  miserable  all  the  day  long,  and  gets  dragged  down 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  depths  of  sin  and  sorrow  and  despair  for 
want  of  a  sympathising  friend,  who  can  give  her  advice,  and  make 
her  feel  that  somebody  in  the  world  cares  for  her,  and  wi!!  help  her 
if  they  can. 

If  we  are  to  bring  back  the  sense  of  brotherhood  to  the  world,  we 
must  confront  this  difficulty.  God,  it  was  said  in  old  time,  setteth 
the  desolate  in  families ;  but  somehow,  in  our  time,  the  desolate 
wander  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  careless  and  unsympathising  world. 
"  There  is  no  one  who  cares  for  my  soul.  There  is  no  creature 
loves  me,  and  if  I  die  no  one  will  pity  me,"  is  surely  one  of  the 
bitterest  cries  that  can  burst  from  a  breaking  heart.  One  of  the 
secrets  of  the  success  of  the  Salvation  Army  is,  that  the  friendless  of 
the  world  find  friends  in  it.  There  is  not  one  sinner  in  the  world — 
no  matter  how  degraded  and  dirty  he  may  be — whom  my  people  will 
not  rejoice  to  take  by  the  hand  and  pray  with,  and  labour  for,  if 
thereby  they  can  but  snatch  him  as  a  brand  from  the  burning. 
Now,  we  want  to  make  more  use  of  this,  to  make  the  Salvation 
Army  the  nucleus  of  a  great  agency  for  bringing  comfort  and  counsel 


SOCIETY    NEEDS    "MOTHERING. 


219 


;  people, 
:rial,  but 
that  you 
I  order  to 
pparatus, 
remember 
d  that  he 
i  by  diffi- 
disappear. 

in  need 
IS.  Many 
eed  down 
iespair  for 
and  make 

help  her 

world,  we 
ne,  setteth 
e  desolate 
iing  world, 
o  creature 
)ne  of  the 
)ne  of  the 
iendless  of 
le  world — 
people  will 
DOur  for,  if 
burning. 
Salvation 
ind  counsel 


to  those  who  are  at  their  wits'  end,  feeling  as  if  in  the  whole  world 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  they  could  go. 

What  we  want  to  do  is  to  exemplify  to  the  world  the  family  idea. 
"  Our  Father  "  is  the  keynote.  One  is  Our  Father,  then  all  we  are 
brethren.  But  in  a  family,  if  anyone  is  troubled  in  mind  or 
conscience,  there  is  no  difficulty.  The  daughter  goes  to  her  father, 
or  the  son  to  his  mother,  and  pour  out  their  soul's  troubles,  and  arc 
relieved.  If  there  is  any  serious  difficulty  a  family  council  is  held, 
and  all  unite  their  will  and  their  resources  to  get  matters  put 
straight.  This  is  what  we  mean  to  try  to  get  done  in  the  New 
Organisation  of  Society  for  which  we  are  labouring.  We  cannot 
know  better  than  God  Almighty  what  will  do  good  to  man.  We  are 
content  to  follow  on  His  lines,  and  to  mend  the  world  we  shall  seek 
to  restore  something  of  the  family  idea  to  the  many  hundreds  of 
thousands  —  ay,  millions  —  who  have  no  one  wiser  or  more 
experienced  than  themselves,  to  whom  they  can  take  their  sorrows, 
or  consult  in  their  difficulties. 

Of  course  we  can  do  this  but  imperfectly.  Only  God  can  create  a 
mother.  But  Society  needs  a  great  deal  of  mothering,  much  more 
than  it  gets.  And  as  a  child  needs  a  mother  to  run  to  in  its 
difficulties  and  troubles,  to  whom  it  can  let  out  its  little  heart  in 
confidence,  so  men  and  women,  weary  and  worn  in  the  battles 
of  life,  need  someone  to  whom  they  can  go  when  pressed  down 
with  a  sense  of  wrongs  suffered  or  done,  knowing  that  their  confi- 
dence will  be  preserved  inviolate,  and  that  their  statements  will 
be  received  with  sympathy.  I  propose  to  attempt  to  meet  this  want. 
I  shall  establish  a  department,  over  which  I  shall  place  the  wisest, 
the  pitifullest,  and  the  most  sagacious  men  and  women  whom  I  can 
find  on  my  staff",  'to  whom  all  those  in  trouble  and  perplexity  shall 
be  invited  to  address  themselves.  It  is  no  use  saying  that  we  love 
our  fellow  men  unless  we  try  to  help  them,  and  it  is  no  use  pretending 
to  sympathise  with  the  heavy  burdens  which  darken  their  lives 
unless  we  try  tc  ease  them  and  to  lighten  their  existence. 

Insomuch  as  we  have  more  practical  experience  of  life  than 
other  men,  by  so  much  are  we  bound  to  help  their  inexperience,  and 
share  our  talents  with  them.  But  if  we  believe  they  are  our  brothers, 
and  that  One  is  our  Father,  even  the  God  who  will  come  to  judge 
us  hereafter  for  all  the  deeds  that  we  have  done  in  the  body,  then 
must  we  constitute,  in  some  such  imperfect  way  as  is  open  to  us,  tlic 
parental  office.     We  must  be  willing  to  receive  the  outpourings  of  our 


'■  -m 


vi 


220 


HE    POOR    MAN'S    LAWYE 


/ 


struggling  fellow  men,  to  listen  to  the  long-buried  secret  that  has 
troubled  the  human  heart,  and  to  welcome  instead  of  repelling  those 
who  would  obey  the  Apostolic  precept :  "To  confess  their  sins  one  to 
another."  Let  not  that  word  confession  scandalise  any.  Confession  of 
the  most  open  sort ;  confession  on  the  public  platform  before  the 
presence  of  all  the  man's  former  associates  in  sin  has  long  been  one  of 
the  most  potent  weapons  by  which  the  Salvation  Army  has  won  its 
victories.  That  confession  we  have  long  imposed  on  all  our  converts, 
and  it  is  the  only  confession  which  seems  to  us  to  be  a  condition  of 
Salvation.  But  this  suggestion  is  of  a  different  kind.  It  is  not  im- 
posed as  a  means  of  grace.  It  is  not  put  forward  as  a  preliminary  to 
the  absolution  which  no  one  can  pronounce  but  our  Lord  Himself.  It  is 
merely  a  response  on  our  pait  to  one  of  the  deepest  needs  and 
secret  longings  of  the  actual  men  and  women  who  ave  meeting  us 
daily  in  our  ivork.  Why  should  they  be  left  to  brood  in  misery 
over  their  secret  sin,  when  a  plain  straightforward  talk  with  a  man 
or  woman  selected  for  his  or  her  sympathetic  common-sense  and 
spiritual  experience  might  take  the  weight  off  their  shoulders  which 
is  crushing  them  into  dull  despair? 

Not  for  absolution,  but  for  sympathy  and  diraction,  do  I  propose  to 
establish  my  Advice  Bureau  in  definite  form,  for  in  practice  it  has 
been  in  existence  for  some  time,  and  wonderful  things  have  been 
done  in  the  direction  on  which  I  contemplate  it  working.  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  inventing  these  departments.  They  all  entail  hard 
work  and  no  end  of  anxiety.  But  if  wc  are  to  represent  the  love 
of  God  to  men,  we  must  minister  to  all  the  wants  and  needs  of  the 
human  heart.  Nor  is  it  only  in  affairs  of  the  heart  that  this  Advice 
Bureau  wi'l  be  of  liervice.  It  will  be  quite  as  useful  in  affairs  of 
the  head.     As  I  conceive  it,  the  Advice  Bureau  will 'be 


THE    POOR    MA.\  S    LAWYER    AND    THE    POOR    MAN  S    TRIBUNE. 


There  are  no  means  in  London,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  goes,  by 
which  the  poor  and  needy  can  obtain  any  legal  assistance  in  the 
varied  oppressions  and  difficulties  from  which  they  must,  in  conse- 
quence of  their  poverty  and  associations,  be  continually  suffering. 

While  the  "  well-to-do  "  classes  can  fall  back  upon  skilful  friends 
for  direction,  or  avail  themse'ives  of  the  learning  and  experience  of  the 
legal  profession,  the  poor  m?.n  has  literally  no  one  qualified  to  counsel 
him  on  such  matters.     In  cases  of  sickness  he  can  ajjply  to  the 


A    POPULAR    COURT    OF    ARBITRATION. 


S2^ 


■ing. 

friends 
e  of  the 

counsel 
to  the 


parish  doctor  or  the  great  hospital,  and  receive  an  odd  word  or  two 
of  advice,  with  a  bottle  of  physic  which  may  or  may  not  be  of 
servir  i.  But  if  his  circumstances  are  sick,  out  of  order,  in  danger  of 
carrying  him  to  utter  destitution,  or  to  prison,  or  to  the  Union,  he 
has  1:0  one  to  appeal  to  who  has  the  willingness  or  the  ability  to  help 
him. 

Now,  we  want  to  create  a  Court  of  Counsel  or  Appeal,  to  which 
anyone  sufl'ering  from  imposition  having  to  do  with  person,  liberty, 
or  property,  or  anything  else  of  sufficient  importance,  can  apply,  and 
obtain  not  only  advice,  but  practical  assistance. 

Among  others  for  whom  this  Court  would  be  devised  is  the 
shamefully-neglected  class  of  Widows,  of  whom  in  the  Ea.st 
of  London  there  are  6,000,  mostly  in  very  destitute  circumstances. 
In  the  whole  of  London  there  cannot  be  less  than  20,000,  and 
in  England  and  Wales  it  is  estimated  there  arc  100,000,  fifty 
thousand  of  whom  are  probably  poor  and  friendless. 

The  treatment  of  these  poor  people  by  the  nation  is  a  crying 
scandal.  Take  the  Cise  of  the  average  widow,  even  when  left  in 
comfortable  circumstances.  She  will  often  be  launched  into  a  sea  ot 
perplexity,  although  able  to  avail  herself  of  the  best  advice.  But 
think  of  the  multitudes  of  poor  women,  who,  when  they  close 
their  husbands'  eyes,  lose  the  only  friend  who  knows  anything 
about  their  circumstances.  There  may  be  a  trifle  of  ~Gucy  or  a 
struggling  business  or  a  little  income  connected  with  property  c-r 
some  other  possession,  all  needing  immediate  attention,  and  that 
of  a  skilful  sort,  in  order  to  enable  the  poor  creature  to  weather 
the  storm  and  avoid  the  vortex  of  utter  destitution. 

All  we  have  said  applies  equally  to  orphans  and  friendless 
people  generally.  Nothing,  however,  short  of  a  national  institu- 
tion could  meet  the  necessities  of  all  such  cases.  But  we  can  do 
something,  and  in  matters  already  referred  to,  such  as  involve 
loss  of  property,  malicious  prosecution,  criminal  and  otherwise,  we 
can  render  substantial  assistance. 

In  carrying  out  this  purpose  it  will  be  no  part  of  our  plan  to 
encourage  legal  proceedings  in  others,  or  to  have  recourse:  to 
them  ourselves.  All  resort  to  law  would  be  avoided  cither  in 
counsel  or  practice,  unless  absolutely  necessary.  But  where 
manifest  injustice  and  wrong  are  perpetrated,  and  every  other 
method  of  obtaining  reparation  fails,  we  shall  avail  ourselves  of 
the  assistance  the  Law  affords. 


222 


THE    POOR    MAN'S    LAWYER. 


t 


...^ 


* 

■ « 
t 

t 

'■* 


Our  great  hope  of  usefulness,  however,  in  this  Department  lies 
in  prevention.  The  knowledge  that  the  oppressed  poor  have  in  us  a 
friend  able  to  speak  for  them  will  often  prevent  the  injustice  which 
cowardly  and  avaricious  persons  might  otherwise  inflict,  and  the 
same  considerations  may  induce  them  to  accord  without  compulsion 
the  right  of  the  we:ik  and  friendless. 

I  also  calcuiate  upon  a  wide  sphere  of  usefulness  in  the  direction 
tf  friendly  arbitration  and  intervention.  There  will  be  at  least  one 
disinterested  tribunal,  however  humble,  to  which  business,  domestic, 
or  any  other  questions  of  a  contentious  and  litigious  nature  can  be 
referred  without  involving  any  serious  .    sts. 

The  following  incidents  have  been  gathered  from  operations  already 
undertak  n  in  this  direction,  and  will  explain  and  illustrate  the  kind 
of  worl  we  contemplate,  and  some  of  the  benefits  that  may  be 
expected  to  follow  from  it. 

About  four  years  ago  a  young  and  delicate  girl  the  daughter  of  a  pilot,  came 
to  us  in-great  distress.  Her  story  was  that  of  thousands  of  others.  She  had 
been  betrayed  bj  a  man  in  a  good  position  in  the  West  End,  and  was  now  the 
mother  of  an  infant  child 

Just  before  her  confinement  htr  seducer  had  taken  her  to  his  solicitors  and 
made  her  sign  and  swear  an  affidavit  to  the  effect  tliat  he  was  not  the  father  of 
the  then  expected  child.  Upon  this  he  gave  her  a  few  pounds  in  setthment  of 
all  claims  upon  him.  The  poor  thing  was  in  great  poverty  and  distresji 
Through  our  solicitors,  we  immediately  opened  communications  with  the  man, 
and  after  negotiations,  he,  to  avoid  further  proceedings,  was  compelled  to  secure 
by  a  deed  a  proper  allowance  to  his  unfortunate  victim  for  the  maintenance  of 
her  child. 

SHADOWED   AND   CAUGHT. 

A was  indrxed  to  leave  a  comfortable  honie  tr  become  t':e  governess  of 

the  motherless  cnildren  of  Mr.  G ,  w'.iom  she  tound  to  bt  a  kind  and  con- 
siderate employer.  After  she  had  been  in  his  service  some  little  time  he  pro- 
posed that  she  should  take  a  trip  to  London.  To  this  she  very  gladly 
consented,  all  the  morfi  so  when  he  offered  tr>  ♦p^.e  her  himself  to  a  good 
appointment  he  had  secured  for  her.  In  London  he  seduced  her,  and  kept  her 
as  his  mistress  until,  tired  ot  her,  he  told  her  to  go  and  do  as  "  other  women 
did." 

Instead  of  descending  to  this  infamy,  she  procured  work,  and  so  supported 
herself  and  child  in  some  degree  of  comfort,  when  he  sought  her  out  and  again 
dragged  her  down.  Another  child  was  born,  and  a  second  time  he  threw  her 
up  and  left  her  to  starve.     It  was  Ihen  she  applied  to  our  people.     We  hunted 


DEFENCE    OF    THE    DEFENCELESS. 


223 


lip  the  man,  followed  him  to  tlie  country,  tlireatened  him  with  public  exposure, 
and  forced  from  him  the  payment  to  his  victim  of  £(30  down,  an  allowance  of 
£1  a  week,  and  an  Insurance  Policy  on  his  life  for  ^450  in  her  favour. 

£(k>   from    ITALY. 

C.  was  seduced  by  a  young  Italian  of  good  position  in  society,  who  promised 
to  marry  her,  but  a  short  time  before  the  day  fixed  for  the  ceremony  lie  told  her 
urgent  business  called  him  abroad.  He  assured  her  he  would  return  in  two 
years  and  make  her  his  wife.  He  wrote  occasionally,  and  at  last  broke  her 
heart  by  sending  the  news  of  his  marriage  to  another,  adding  insult  to  injury  by 
suggesting  that  she  should  come  and  live  with  his  wife  as  her  maid,  offering  at 
the  same  time  to  pay  for  the  maintenance  of  the  child  till  it  was  old  t_  >ugh  to 
be  placed  in  charge  of  the  captain  of  one  of  the  vessels  belonging  to  his  firm. 

None  of  these  promises  were  fulfilled,  and  C  ,  with  her  mothers  ast,istance, 
for  a  time  managed  to  support  herself  and  child ;  but  the  mother,  worn  out  by 
age  and  trouble,  could  help  her  no  longer,  and  the  poor  girl  was  driven  to 
despair.  Her  case  was  brought  before  us,  and  we  at  once  set  to  work  to  assist 
her.  The  Consul  of  the  town  where  the  seducer  lived  in  style  was  communicated 
with.  Approaches  were  made  to  the  young  man's  father,  who,  to  save  the  dis- 
honour that  would  follow  exposure,  paid  over  £60.  This  helps  to  maintain  the 
child  ;  and  the  girl  is  in  domestic  service  and  doing  well. 

THE   HIRE   SYSTEM. 

The  most  cruel  wrongs  are  frequently  inflicted  on  the  very  poorest 
nersons,  in  connection  with  this  method  of  obtaining  Furniture, 
Sewing  Machines,  Mangles,  or  other  articles.  Caught  by  the  lure  of 
misleading  advertisements,  the  poor  are  induced  to  purchase  artirlea 
to  be  paid  for  by  weekly  or  monthly  instalments.  Tliey  struggle 
through  half  the  amount  perhaps,  at  all  manner  of  sacrifice,  when 
some  delay  in  the  payment  is  made  the  occasion  not  only  for  seizing 
the  goods,  which  they  have  come  to  regard  as  their  own,  and  on 
which  their  very  existence  depends,  but  by  availing  themselves  of 
some  technical  clause  in  the  agreement,  for  robbing  them  in  addition. 
In  such  circumstances  the  poor  things,  being  utterly  friendless,  have 
to  submit  to  these  infrmous  extortions  without  remedy.  Our  Bureau 
will  be  open  to  all  such. 

TALLYMEN,    MONEY   LENDERS,    AND    BILLS-OF-SALEMONGERS. 

Here  agaio  we  have  a  class  who  prey  upon  the  poverty  of  the 
people,  inducin^^'  them  to  purchase  things  for  which  they  have  often 
no  immediate  use — anyway  for  which  there  is  no  real  necessity — by 
all  manner  of  specious   promises  as  to  easy  terms  of  repayment. 


g^4 


tHE    POOft    MAN*S    LAWYErt. 


'    Id 


And  once  having  got  their  dupes  into  their  power  they  drag  them 
down  to  misery,  and  very  often  utter  temporal  ruin  ;  once  in  their 
net  escape  is  exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible.  We  propose 
to  help  the  poor  victims  by  this  Scheme,  as  far  as  possible. 

Our  Bureau,  we  expect  will  be  of  immense  service  to  Clergymen, 
Ministers  of  all  denominations,  District  Visitors,  Missionaries,  and 
others  who  freely  mix  among  the  poor,  seeing  that  they  must  be 
frequently  appealed  to  for  legal  advice,  which  they  are  quite  unable 
to  give,  and  equally  at  a  loss  to  obtain.  We  shall  always  be  very 
glad  to  assist  such. 

THE    DEFENCE    OF    UNDEFENDED    PERSONS, 

The  conviction  is  gradually  fixing  itself  upon  the  public  mind  that 
a  not  inconsiderable  number  of  innocent  persons  are  from  time  to 
time  convicted  of  crimes  and  offences,  the  reason  for  which  often  is 
the  mere  inability  to  secure  an  efficient  defence.  Although  there  are 
several  societies  in  London  and  the  country  dealing  with  the  criminal 
classes,  and  more  particularly  with  discharged  prisoners,  yet  there 
does  not  appear  to  be  one  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  unconvicted 
prisoners.     This  work  we  propose  boldly  to  take  up. 

By  this  and  many  other  ways  we  shall  help  those  charged  with 
criminal  offences,  who,  on  a  most  careful  enquiry,  might  reasonably 
be  supposed  to  be  innocent,  but  who,  through  want  of  means,  are 
unable  to  obtain  the  legal  assistance,  and  produce  the  evidence 
necessary  for  an  efficient  defence. 

We  shall  not  pretend  authoritatively  to  judge  as  to  who  is  innocent 
or  who  is  guilty,  but  if  after  full  explanation  and  enquiry  the  person 
charged  may  reason,  bly  be  supposed  to  be  innocent,  and  is  not  in  a 
position  to  defend  himself,  then  we  should  feel  free  to  advise  such  a 
case,  hoping  thereby  to  save  such  person  and  his  family  and  friends 
from  much  misery,  and  possibly  from  utter  ruin. 

Mr.  Justice  Field  recently  remarked  : — 

"  For  a  man  to  assist  another  man  who  was  under  a  criminal  charge  was  a 
highly  laudable  and  praiseworthy  act.  If  a  man  was  without  friends,  and  an 
Englishman  came  forward  and  legitimately,  and  for  the  purpose  of  honestly 
assisting  him  with  means  to  put  before  the  Court  his  case,  that  was  a  highly 
laudable  and  praiseworthy  act,  and  he  should  be  the  last  man  in  the  country  to 
complain  of  any  man  for  so  doing." 

These  remarks  are  endorsed  by  most  Judges  and  Magistrates, 
and  our  Advice  Bureau  will  give  practical  effect  to  them. 


ADVICE    BUREAU    IN    CRIMINAL   CHARGES. 


225 


nnocent 
person 

not  in  a 
such  a 
friends 


le  was  a 

and  an 

honestly 

a  highly 

auntry  to 

istrates, 


In  every  case  an  attempt  will  be  made  to  secure,  not  only  the 
outward  reformation,  but  the  actual  regeneration  of  all  whom  we 
assist.  Special  attention,  as  has  been  described  under  the  "  Criminal 
Reform  Department,"  will  be  paid  to  first  offenders. 

We  shall  endeavour  also  to  assist,  as  far  as  we  have  ability,  the 
Wives  and  Children  of  persons  who  are  undergoing  sentences, 
by  endeavouring  to  obtain  for  them  employment,  or  otherwise 
rendering  them  help.  Hundreds  of  this  class  fall  into  the  deepest 
distress  and  demoralisation  through  want  of  friendly  aid  in  tiie 
forlorn  circumstances  in  which  they  find  themselves  on  the  con- 
viction of  relatives  on  whom  they  have  been  dependent  for  a  liveli- 
hood, or  for  protection  and  direction  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life. 

This  Department  will  also  be  responsible  for  gathering  intelligence, 
spreading  information,  and  the  general  prosecution  of  such  measures 
as  are  likely  to  lead  to  the  much-needed  beneficial  changes  in  our 
Prison  Management.  In  short,  it  will  seek  to  become  the  true  friend 
and  saviour  of  the  Criminal  Classes  in  general,  and  in  doing  so 
we  shall  desire  to  act  in  harmony  with  the  societies  at  present  in 
existence,  who  may  be  seeking  for  objects  kindred  to  the 
Advice  Bureau. 

We  pen  the  following  list  to  give  some  idea  of  the  topics  on  which 
the  Advice  Bureau  may  be  consulted  : — 


Accidents,  Claim  for 
Administration  of  Estates 
Adulteration  of  Food  and 

Drugs 
Agency,  Questions  of 
Agreements,  Disputed 
Affiliation  Cases 
Animals,  Cruelty  to 
Arrest,  Wrongful 
Assault 

Bankruptcies 
Bills  of  E.xchange 
Bills  of  Sale 
Bonds,  I'orfcited 
Breach  of  Promise 

Children,  Cruelty  to 


Children,  Custody  of  Employers'  Liability  Act 

Compensation  for  Injuries  Executors,  Duties  of 
„         for  Accident 


„         for  Defamation 
„        for     Loss      of 
Employ- 
ment,      &c., 
&c. 
Confiscation  by  Landlords 
Contracts,  Breach  of 
Copyright,  Infringement 

of 
County  Court  Cases 

Debts 

Distress,  Illegal 
Divorce 
Ejectment  Cases 


Factory  Act,  Breach  of 
Fraud,  Attempted 

Goodwill,  Sale  ot 
Guarantee,  Forfeited 

Heir-at-Law 
Husbands    and    Wives, 
Disputes  of 

Imprisonment,  False 
Infants,  Custody  of 
Intestacy,  Cases  of 

Judgment  Summonse$t 


:j:    i!! 


226 


tHE    POOR   MAN'S  LAWYER. 


»  ' 


.        it 

■  k 

I,   ' 


!/     Ii 


ffil' 


!S 


Landlord      and       TeMiant     Nuisances,  Alleged 

Cases 
Leases,        Lapses         and 

Renewals  iil 
Legacies,  l)is|)uted 
Libel  Cases 
Licences 


Sheriffs 

Sureties  Estreated 

Partnership,  The  Law  of 

Patents,  Kegistratiun  and    Tenancies,  Disputed 


Marriage    Law,    yuestion 

of  the 
Masters'     and      Servants' 

Acts 
Meeting,  Kiglit  of  Public 
Mortgages 
Negligence,  Alleged 
Next  of  Kin  Wanted 


Infringement  of 
Pawnbrokers   and   their 

Pledges 
Police  Cases 
Probate 


Kates  and  Taxes 
Reversionary  Interests 

Seduction,  Cases  of 
Servants'  Wrongful  Dis- 
missal 


Trade   Marks,    Infringe- 
ment of 
Trespass,  Cases  of 
Trustees  and  Trusts 

Wages  Kept  Hack 
Wills,      Disputed      and 

Unproved 
Women,  Cruelty  to 
Workmen,  Grievances  ni 

&c.,  &c. 


The  Advice  Bureau  will  therefore  be,  first  of  all,  a  place  where 
men  and  women  in  trouble  can  come  when  they  please  to  com- 
municate in  confidence  the  cause  of  their  anxiety,  with  a  certainty 
that  they  will  receive  a  sympathetic  hearing  and  the  best  advice. 

Secondly,  it  will  be  a  Poor  Man's  Lawyer,  giving  the  best  legal 
counsel  as  to  the  course  to  be  pursued  in  the  various  circumstances 
with  which  the  poor  find  themselves  confronted. 

Thirdly,  it  will  act  as  a  Poor  Man's  Tribune,  and  will  undertake 
the  defence  of  friendless  prisoners  supposed  to  be  innocent,  together 
with  the  resistance  of  illegal  extortions,  and  the  prosecution  of 
offenders  who  refuse  legal  satisfaction  for  the  wrongs  they  have 
committed. 

Fourthly,  it  will  act  wherever  it  is  called  upon  as  a  Court  of 
Arbitration  between  litigants,  where  the  decision  will  be  according 
to  equity,  and  the  costs  cut  down  to  the  lowest  possible  figure. 

Such  a  Department  cannot  be  improvised ;  but  it  is  already  in  a 
fair  way  of  development,  and  it  can  hardly  fail  to  do  great  good. 


^5-1' 


Section  5.— OUR  INTELLIGENCK  DEPARTMENT. 

An  indispensable  adjunct  of  tliis  Scheme  will  be  the  institution  of 
what  may  be  called  an  Intelligence  Department  at  Headquarters. 
Power,  it  has  been  said,  belongs  to  tl>e  best  informed,  and  if  we  are 
clVectuall)  to  deal  with  the  forces  of  social  evil,  we  must  have  ready 
at  our  fnigcrs'  ends  the  accumulated  experience  and  information  of 
the  whole  world  on  this  subiccL  The  collection  of  facts  and  the 
systematic  record  of  them  would  be  invaluable,  rendering  the  results 
of  t'lc  experiments  of  previous  generations  available  for  the  informa- 
tion of  our  own. 

At  the  present  there  is  no  central  institution,  either  governmental 
or  otherwise,  in  this  country  or  any  other,  which  chai"ges  itself  with 
the  duty  of  collecting  and  collating  the  ideas  and  conclusions  on 
Social  Kconomy,  so  far  as  they  are  likely  to  help  the  solution  of  the 
problem  we  have  in  hand.  The  British  Home  Office  has  only  begun 
to  index  its  own  papers.  The  Local  Government  Board  is  in  a 
similar  condition,  and,  although  each  particular  Blue  Book  may  be 
admirably  indexed,  there  is  no  classified  index  of  the  whole  series. 
If  this  is  the  case  with  the  Government,  it  is  not  likely  that  the  innu- 
merable private  organisations  which  are  pecking  here  and  there  at  the 
social  question  should  possess  any  systematised  method  for  the  purpose 
of  comparing  notes  and  storing  information.  This  Intelligence  Depart- 
ment, which  I  propose  to  found  on  a  small  scale  at  first,  will  have  in 
it  the  germ  of  vast  extension  which  will,  if  adequately  supported, 
become  a  kind  of  University,  in  which  the  accumulated  experiences 
of  the  human  race  will  be  massed,  digested,  and  rendered  available 
to  the  humblest  toiler  in  the  great  work  of  social  reform.  At  the 
present  moment,  who  is  there  that  can  produce  in  any  of  our 
museums  and  universities  as  much  as  a  classified  index  of  publica- 
tions relating  to  one  of  the  many  heads  under  which  I  have  dealt 
with  this  subject  ?  Who  is  there  among  all  our  wise  men  and  social 
reformers  that  can  send  me  a  list  of  all  the  best  tracts  upon — say, 
the  establishment  of  agricultural  colonies  or  the  experiments  that 
have  been  made  in  dealing  with  inebriates ;  or  the  best  plans  for  the 
construction  of  a  working  man's  cottage  ? 


228 


OUR  INTELLIGENCE  DEPARTMENT. 


For  the  development  of  this  Scheme  I  want  an  Office  to  be  jin  with, 
in  v'hich,  under  the  head  of  the  varied  subjects  treated  of  in  this 
volume,  I  may  have  arranged  the  condensed  essence  of  all  the  best 
books  that  have  been  written,  and  the  names  and  addresses  of  those 
whose  opinions  are  worth  having  upon  them,  together  with  a  note  of 
what  those  opinions  are,  and  the  results  of  experiments  which  have 
been  made  in  relation  to  them.  I  want  to  establish  a  system  which 
will  enable  me  to  use,  not  only  the  eyes  and  hands  of  Salvation 
Officers,  but  of  sympathetic  friends  in  al'  parts  of  the  world,  for 
purposes  of  noticing  and  reporting  at  once  every  social  experiment 
of  importance,  any  words  of  wisdom  on  the  social  question,  whether 
it  may  be  the  breeding  of  rabbits,  the  organisation  of  an  emigration 
service,  the  best  method  of  conducting  a  Cottage  Farm,  or  the 
best  way  of  cooking  potatoes.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  range 
of  our  operations  upon  which  we  should  not  be  accumulating  and 
recording  the  resiults  of  human  experience.  What  I  want  is  to  get 
the  essence  of  wisdom  which  the  wisest  have  gatliered  from  the 
widest  experience,  rendered  instantly  available  for  the  humblest 
worker  in  the  Salvation  Factory  or  Farm  Colony,  and  for  any  other 
toiler  in  similar  fields  of  social  progress. 

It  can  be  done,  and  in  the  service  of  the  people  it  ought  to  be  done. 
I  look  for  helpers  in  this  department  among  those  who  hitherto 
may  not  have  cared  for  the  Salvation  Army,  but  who  in  the  seclusion 
of  their  studies  and  libraries  will  assist  in  the  compiling  of  this 
great  Index  of  Sociological  Experiments,  and  who  would  be  willing, 
in  this  form,  to  help  in  this  Scheme,  as  Associate^,  for  the  ameliora- 
ting of  the  condition  of  the  people,  if  in  nothing  else  than  in  using 
their  eyes  and  ears,  and  giving  me  the  benefit  of  their  brains  as  to 
where  knowledge  lies,  and  how  it  can  best  be  utilised.  I  propose  to 
make  a  beginning  by  putting  two  capable  men  and  a  boy  in  an 
office,  with  instructions  to  cut  out,  preserve,  and  verify  all  con- 
temporary records  in  the  daily  and  weekly  press  that  have  a  bearing 
upon  any  branch  of  our  departments.  Round  these  two  men  and  a 
boy  will  grow  up,  I  confidently  believe,  a  vast  organisation  of 
2ealous  unpaid  workers,  who  will  co-operate  in  making  our  Intel- 
ligence Department  a  great  storehouse  of  information — a  universal 
I'brary  where  any  man  may  learn  what  is  the  sum  of  human  know- 
ledge upon  any  branch  of  the  subject  which  we  have  taken  in  hand. 


m 


Section  6.— CO-OPERATION  IN  GENERAL. 

If  anyone  asked  me  to  state  in  one  word  what  seemed  likely  to  be 
the  key  of  the  solution  of  the  Social  Problem  I  should  answer  un- 
h.esitatingly  Co-operation.  It  being  always  understood  that  it  is  Co- 
operation conducted  on  righteous  principles,  and  for  wise  and 
benevolent  ends  ;  otherwise  Association  cannot  be  expected  to  bear 
an}'  more  profitable  fruit  than  Individualism.  Co-operation  is  applied 
association — association  for  the  purpose  of  production  and  distribu- 
tion. Co-operation  implies  the  voluntary  combination  of  individuals 
to  the  attaining  an  object  by  mutual  help,  mutual  counsel,  and  mutual 
effort.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  idle  talk  in  the  world  just  now 
about  capital,  as  if  capital  were  the  enemy  of  labour.  It  is  quite 
true  that  there  are  capitalists  not  a  few  who  may  be  regarded  as  the 
enemies,  not  only  of  labour,  but  of  the  human  rac*;  "but  capital 
itself,  so  far  from  being  a  natural  enemy  of  labour,  is  the  great  objec*^^ 
which  the  labourer  has  constantly  in  view.  However  much  an 
agitator  may  denounce  capital,  his  one  great  grievance  is  that  he  has 
not  enough  of  it  for  himself.  Capital,  therefore,  is  not  an  evil  in 
itself;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  good — so  good  that  one  of  the  great  aims 
of  the  social  reformer  ought  to  be  to  facilitate  its  widest  possiblj 
distribution  among  his  fellow-men.  It  is  the  congestion  of  capital 
that  is  evil,  and  the  labour  question  will  never  be  finally  solved 
until  every  labourer  is  his  own  capitalist. 

All  this  is  trite  enough,  and  has  been  said  a  thousand  times  already, 
but,  unfortunately,  with  the  saying  of  it  the  matter  ends.  Co-opera- 
tion has  been  brought  into  practice  in  relation  to  distribution  with 
considerable  success,  but  co-operation,  as  a  means  of  production,  has 
not  achieved  anything  like  the  success  that  was  anticipated.  Again 
and  again  enterprises  have  been  begun  on  co-operative  principles 
which  bid  fair,  in  the  opinion  of  the  promoters,  to  succeed  ;  but  after 
one,  two,  three,  or  ten  years,  the  enterprise  which  was  started  with 
such  hif^h  hopes  has  dwindled  away  into  either  total  or  partial  failure. 


i 
ilUll 


230 


CO-OPERATION    IN    GENERA!. 


t:,      :  I 


<   i.'i! 


At  present,  many  co-operative  undertakings  are  nothing  more  or  lcss5 
than  huge  Joint  Stock  Limited  Liability  concerns,  shares  ^^  whicii 
are  held  largely  by  working  people,  but  not  necessarily,  and  some- 
times not  at  all  by  those  who  are  actually  employed  in  the  so-called 
co-operative  business.  Now,  why  is  this  ?  Why  do  co-operative 
firms,  co-operative  factories,  and  co-operative  Utopias  so  very  often 
come  to  grief?  I  believe  the  cause  is  an  open  secret,  and  can  be 
discerned  by  anyone  who  will  look  at  the  subject  with  an  open  eye. 

The  success  of  industrial  concerns  is  largely  a  question  of  manage- 
ment. Management  signifies  government,  and  government  implies 
authority,  and  authority  is  the  last  thing  which  co-operators  of  the 
Utopian  order  are  willing  to  recognise  as  an  element  essential  to  the 
success  of  their  Schemes.  The  co-operative  institution  which  is 
governed  on  Parliamentary  principles,  with  unlimited  right  of 
debate  and  right  of  obstruction,  will  never  be  able  to  compete 
successfully  with  institutions  which  are  directed  by  a  single 
brain  wielding  the  united  resources  of  a  disciplined  and  obedient 
army  of  workers.  Hence,  to  make  co-operation  a  success  you 
must  superadd  to  the  principle  of  consent  the  principle  of 
authority  ;  you  must  invest  in  those  to  whom  you  entrust  thq  manage- 
ment of  your  co-operative  establishment  the  sane  liberty  of  action 
that  is  possessed  by  the  owner  of  works  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street.  There  is  no  delusion  more  common  among  men  than  the 
belief  that  liberty,  which  is  a  good  thing  in  itself,  is  so  good  as  to 
enable  those  who  possess  it  to  dispense  with  all  other  good  things- 
But  as  no  man  lives  by  bread  alone,  neither  can  nations  or  factories 
or  shipyards  exist  solely  upon  unlimited  freedom  to  have  their  own 
way.  In  co-operation  we  stand  pretty  much  where  the  I'^rench 
nation  stood  immediately  after  the  outburst  of  the  Revolution.  In 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  proclamation  of  the  rights  of  man,  and  the 
repudiation  of  the  rotten  and  effete  regime  of  the  Bourbons,  the 
French  peasants  and  workmen  imagined  that  they  were  inaugurating 
the  millennium  when  they  scrawled  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity 
across  all  the  churches  in  every  city  of  France.  They  carried  their 
principles  of  freedom  and  license  to  the  logical  ultimate,  and 
attempted  to  manage  their  army  on  Parliamentary  principles.  It 
did  not  work  ;  their  undisciplined  levies  were  driven  back  ;  disorder 
reigned  in  the  Republican  camp  ;  and  the  French  Revolution  would 
have  been  stifled  in  its  cradle  had  not  the  instinct  of  the  nation 
discerned  in  time  the  weak  point  in  its  armour.     Menaced  by  foreign 


SUCCESS    IN    CO-OPERATION. 


231 


wars  and  intestine  revolt,  the  Republic  established  an  iron  discipline 
in  its  army,  and  enforced  obedience  by  the  summary  process  of 
military  execution.  The  liberty  and  the  enthusiasm  developed  by 
the  outburst  of  the  long  pent-up  revolutionary  forces  supplied  the 
motive  power,  but  it  was  the  discipline  of  the  revolutionary  armies, 
the  stern,  unbending  obedience  which  was  enforced  in  all  ranks  from 
the  highest  to  the  lowest,  which  created  for  Napoleon  the  admirable 
military  instrument  by  which  he  shattered  every  throne  in  Europe 
and  swept  in  triumph  from  Paris  to  Moscow. 

In  industrial  aflfeirs  we  are  very  mucli  like  the  French  Republic 
before  it  tempered  its  doctrine  of  the  rights  of  man  by  the  duty  of 
obedience  on  the  part  of  the  soldier.  We  have  got  to  introduce  dis- 
cipline into  the  industrial  army,  we  have  to  superadd  the  principle  of 
authority  to  the  principle  of  co-operation,  and  so  to  enable  the 
worker  to  profit  to  the  full  by  the  increased  productiveness  of  the 
willing  labour  of  men  who  are  employed  in  their  own  workshops  and 
on  their  own  property.  There  is  no  need  to  clamour  for  great 
schemes  of  State  Socialism.  The  whole  thing  can  be  done  simply, 
economically,  and  speedily  if  only  the  workers  will  practice  as  mucii 
self-denial  for  the  sake  of  establishing  themselves  as  capitalists,  as 
the  Soldiers  of  the  Salvation  Army  practice  every  year  in  Self  Denial 
Week  What  is  the  sense  of  never  making  a  levy  except  during  a 
strike  ?  Instead  of  calling  for  a  shilling,  oi-  two  shillings,  a  week  in 
order  to  maintain  men  who  are  starving  in  idleness  because  of  a  dis- 
pute with  their  masters,  why  should  there  not  be  a  levy  kept  up  for 
weeks  or  months,  by  the  workers,  for  the  purpose  ot  setting  them- 
selves up  in  business  as  masters  ?  There  would  then  be  no  longer 
a  capitalist  owner  face  to  face  with  the  masses  of  the  proletariat,  but 
all  the  means  of  production,  the  plant,  and  all  the  accumulated  re- 
sources of  capital  would  really  be  at  the  disposal  of  labour.  This 
will  never  be  done,  however,  as  long  as  co-operative  experiments  are 
carried  on  in  the  present  archaic  fashion. 

Believing  in  co-operation  as  the  ultimate  solution,  if  to  co-opera- 
tion you  can  add  subordination,  I  am  disposed  to  attempt  some- 
thing in  this  direction  in  my  new  Social  Scheme.  I  shall  endeavoui" 
to  start  a  Co-operative  Farm  on  the  principles  of  Ralahine,  and  base 
the  whole  of  my  Farm  Colony  on  a  Co-operative  foundation. 

In  starting  this  little  Co-operative  Commonwealth,  I  am  reminded 
by  those  who  are  always  at  a  man's  elbow  to  fill  him  with  forebodings 
gf  ill,  to  look  at  the  failures,  which  I  have  just  referred  to,  which 


^ ' 


ft 


232 


CO-OPERATION    IN    GENERAL. 


I 

IK 


U     \- 


1   '' 

■       ll 


make  up  the  history  of  the  attempt  to  realise  ideal  commonwealths  in 
this  practical  workaday  world.  Now,  I  have  read  tlie  history  of  the 
many  attempts  at  co-operation  that  have  been  made  to  form  commun- 
istic settlements  in  the  United  States,  and  am  perfectly  familiar  witli 
the  sorrowful  fate  with  which  nearly  .'.11  have  been  overtaken  ;  but  the 
story  of  their  failures  does  not  deter  me  in  the  least,  for  I  regard 
them  as  nothing  more  than  warnings  to  avoid  certain  mistakes, 
beacons  to  illustrate  the  need  of  proceeding  on  a  different  tack. 
Broadly  speaking,  your  experimental  communities  fail  because  your 
Utopias  all  start  upon  the  system  of  equality  and  government  by 
vote  of  the  majority,  and,  as  a  necessary  and  unavoidable  con- 
sequence, your  Utopians  get  to  loggerheads,  and  Utopia  goes  to  smash. 
I  shall  avoid  that  rock.  The  Farm  Colony,  like  all  the  other 
departments  of  the  Scheme,  will  be  governed,  not  on  the  principle  of 
counting  noses,  but  on  the  exactly  opposite  principle  of  admitting 
no  noses  into  the  concern  that  are  not  willing  to  be  guided  by  the 
directing  brain.  It  will  be  managed  on  principles  which  assert  that 
the  fittest  ought  to  rule,  and  it  will  provide  for  the  fittest  being 
selected,  and  having  got  them  at  the  top,  will  insist  on  universal 
and  unquestioning  obedience  from  those  at  the  bottom.  If  any- 
one does  not  like  to  work  for  his  rations  and  submit  to 
the  orders  of  his  superior  Officers  he  can  leave.  There  is  no 
compulsion  on  him  to  stay.  The  world  is  wide,  and  outside  the 
confines  of  our  Colony  and  the  operations  of  our  Corps  my  authority 
does  not  extend.  But  judging  from  our  brief  experience  it  is  not 
from  revc'i:  against  authority  that  the  Scheme  is  destined  to  fail. 

There  cannot  be  a  greater  mistake  in  this  world  than  to  imagine 
that  men  object  to  be  governed.  They  like  to  be  governed,  provided 
that  the  governor  has  his  *'  head  screwed  on  right"  and 
that  he  is  prompt  to  hear  and  ready  to  see  and  recognise  all  that 
is  vital  to  the  interests  of  the  commonwealth.  So  far  from  there 
being  an  innate  objection  on  the  part  of  mankind  to  being  governed, 
the  instinct  to  obey  is  so  universal  that  even  when  governments  have 
gone  blind,  and  deaf,  and  paralytic,  rotten  with  corruption  and  hope- 
lessly behind  the  times,  they  still  contrive  to  live  on.  Against  a  capable 
Government  no  people  ever  rebel,  only  when  stupidity  and  incapacity 
have  taken  possession  of  the  seat  Qf  power  do  insurrections  break 
•ut. 


Imagine 
•ovided 
and 
ill  that 
there 
earned, 
Its  have 
hope- 
Icapable 
]apacity 
break 


•Section  7. -A  MATRIMONIAL  BUREAU. 

There  is  another  direction  in  which  something  ought  to  be  done 
to  restore  the  natural  advantages  enjoyed  by  every  rural  community 
which  liave  been  destro3'ed  by  the  increasing  tendency  of  mankind 
to  come  together  in  huge  masses.  I  refer  to  that  which  is  after  all 
one  of  the  most  important  elements  in  every  human  life,  that  of 
marrying  and  giving  in  marriage.  In  the  natural  life  of  a  country 
village  all  the  lads  and  lasses  grow  up  together,  they  meet  together 
in  religious  associations,  in  daily  emplo3'ments,  and  in  their  amuse- 
ments on  the  village  grc^n.  They  have  learned  their  A,  B,  C  and  pot- 
hooks together,  and  when  the  time  comes  for  pairing  off  they  have  had 
excellent  opportunities  of  knowing  the  qualities  and  the  defects  of 
those  whom  tliov  select  as  their  partners  in  life.  Everything  in  such 
a  community  lends  itself  naturally  to  the  indispensable  preliminaries 
of  love-making,  and  courtships,  which,  however  much  they  may  be 
laughed  at,  contribute  more  than  most  things  to  the  happiness 
of  life.  But  in  a  great  city  all  this  is  destroyed.  In  London  at 
the  present  moment  how  many  hundreds,  nay  thousands,  of  young 
men  and  young  women,  who  are  living  in  lodgings,  are  practically 
without  any  opportunity  of  making  the  acquaintance  of  each  other, 
or  of  any  one  of  the  other  sex  !  The  street  is  no  doubt  the  city 
substitute  for  the  village  green,  and  what  a  substitute  it  is ! 

It  has  been  bitterly  said  by  one  who  knew  well  what  he  was 
talking  about,  "  There  are  thousands  of  young  men  to-day  who 
have  no  right  to  call  any  woman  by  her  Christian  name,  except 
the  girls  they  meet  plying  their  dreadful  trade  in  our  public 
thoroughfares."  As  long  as  that  is  the  case,  vice  has  an  enormous 
advantage  over  virtue  ;  such  an  abnormal  social  arrangement  inter- 
dicts moraliiv  and  places  a  vast  premium  upon  prostitution.  We 
must  get  back  to  nature  if  we  have  to  cope  with  this  ghastly  evil. 

There  ought  to  be  more  opportunities  afforded  for  healthy  human 
intercourse  between  young  men  and  young  women,  nor  can  Society 


i 


234 


A    MATRIMONIAL    BUREAU. 


II 

I! 


I. 


rid  itsdf  of  a  great  responsibility  for  all  the  wrecks  of  manhood  and 
womanhood  with  which  our  streets  are  strewn,  unless  it  does  make 
some  attempt  t)  bridge  this  hideous  chasm  which  yawns  between  the 
two  halves  of  humanity.  The  older  I  grow  the  more  absolutely  am 
I  opposed  to  anything  that  violates  the  fundamental  law  of  the  family. 
Humanity  is  composed  of  two  sexes,  and  woe  be  to  those  who 
attempt  to  separate  them  into  distinct  bodies,  making  of  each  half  one 
whole  !  It  has  been  tried  in  monasteries  and  convents  with  but  poor 
success,  yet  what  our  fervent  Protestants  do  not  seem  to  see  is 
that  we  are  reconstructing  a  similar  false  system  for  our  young 
people  without  the  safeguards  and  the  restraints  cf  convent  walls 
or  the  sanctifying  influence  of  religious  conviction.  The  conditions 
of  City  life,  the  absence  of  the  enforced  companionship  of  the 
village  and  small  town,  the  difficulty  of  young  people  finding 
harmless  opportunities  cf  friendly  intercourse,  all  tends  to  create 
classes  of  celibates  who  are  not  chaste,  and  whose  irregular 
and  lawless  indulgence  of  a  universal  instinct  is  one  of  the  most 
melancholy  features  of  the  present  state  of  society.  Nay,  so  generally 
is  this  recognised,  that  one  of  the  terms  by  which  one  of  the  con- 
sequences of  this  unnatural  state  of  things  is  popularly  known  is 
"  the  social  evil,"  as  if  all  other  social  evils  were  comparatively 
unworthy  of  notice  in  comparison  to  this. 

While  I  have  been  busily  occupied  in  working  out  my  Scheme  for 
the  registration  of  labour,  it  has  occurred  to  me  more  than  once, 
why  could  not  something  like  the  same  plan  be  adopted  in 
relation  to  men  who  want  wives  and  women  who  want 
husbands  ?  Marriage  is  with  most  people  largely  a  matter  of 
opportunity.  Many  a  man  and  many  a  woman,  who  would,  if  they 
had  come  together,  have  formed  a  happy  household,  are  leading  at 
this  moment  miserable  and  solitary  lives,  suffering  in  body  and  in 
soul,  in  consequence  of  their  exclusion  from  the  natural  state  cf 
matrimony.  Of  course,  the  registration  of  the  unmarried  who  wis  i 
to  marry  would  be  a  matter  of  much  greater  delicacy  than  the 
registration  of  the  joiners  and  stone-masons  who  wish  to  obtain 
work.  But  the  thing  is  not  impossible.  I  have  repeatedly  found 
in  my  experience  that  many  a  man  and  many  a  woman  would  only 
be  too  glad  to  hc.vc  a  friendly  hint  as  to  where  they  might  prosecute 
their  attentions  or  from  which  they  might  receive  proposals. 

In  connection  with  such  an  agency,  if  it  were  established— for  I  am 
not  engaging  to  undertake  this  task — I  am  only  throwing  out  a 


A    TRAINING    HOME   OF    HOUSEWIFERY. 


235 


possible  sug;j,estion  as  to  the  development  in  the  direction  of  meeting 
a  much  needed  want,  there  might  be  added  training  homes  for 
matrimony.  My  heart  bleeds  for  many  a  young  couple  whom  I  see 
launching  out  into  the  sea  of  natrimony  with  no  housewifery 
experience.  The  young  girls  who  leave  our  public  elementary 
schools  and  go  out  into  factories  have  never  been  trained  to  home 
duties,  and  yet,  when  taken  to  wife,  are  unreasonably  expected  to 
fill  worthily  the  difficult  positions  of  the  head  of  a  household  and 
the  mother  of  a  family.  A  montli  spent  before  marriage  in  a 
training  home  of  housewifery  would  conduce  much  more  to  the 
happiness  of  the  married  life  than  the  honeymoon  which 
immediately  follows  it. 

Especially  is  this  the  case  with  those  who  marry  to  go  abroad 
and  settle  in  a  distant  country.  I  often  marvel  when  I  think  of  the 
Mtter  helplessness  of  the  modern  woman,  compared  with  the  handi- 
ness  of  her  grandmother.  How  many  of  our  girls  can  even  bake  a 
a  loaf?  The  baker  has  killed  out  one  of  our  fundamental 
domestic  arts.  But  if  you  are  in  the  Backwoods  or  in  the  Prairie  or 
in  the  Bush,  no  baker's  cart  comes  round  every  morning  with  the 
new-made  bread,  and  I  have  often  thought  with  sorrow  of  the  kind 
of  stuff  which  this  poor  wife  must  serve  up  to  her  hungry  husband. 
As  it  is  with  baking,  so  it  is  with  washing,  with  milking,  With 
spinning,  with  all  the  arts  and  sciences  of  the  household,  which 
were  formerly  taught,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  all  the  daughters 
who  were  born  in  the  world.  Talk  about  woman's  rights,  one  of 
the  first  of  woman's  rights  is  to  be  trained  to  her  trade,  to  be 
queen  of  her  household,  and  mother  of  her  children. 

Speaking  of  colonists  leads  me  to  the  suggestion  whether 
something  could  not  be  done  to  supply,  on  a  w'^ll-organiscd 
system,  the  thousands  of  bachelor  miners  or  the:  vast  host  of 
unman ied  males  who  are  struggling  with  the  wilderness  on  the 
outskirts  of  civilisation,  with  capable  wives  from  the  ovc'^rplus 
of  marriageable  females  who  abound  in  our  great  towns.  Woman 
supplied  in  adequate  quantities  is  the  great  moraliser  of  Society, 
but  woman  doled  out  as  she  is  in  the  Far  West  and  the 
Australian  bush,  in  the  proportion  of  one  woman  to  about  a  dozep 
men,  is  a  fertile  source  of  vice  and  crime.  Htre  again  we  must 
get  back  to  nature,  whose  fundamental  laws  our  social  arrangements 
have  rudely  set  on  one  side  with  consequences  which  as  usual  she  does 
not  fail  to  exact  with  remorseless  severity.     There  have  always  been 


236 


A  MATRIMONIAL    BUREAU. 


bjrii  into  tho  world  and  continue  to  be  bom  boys  and  girls  in  fait  y 
equal  proportions,  but  with  colonising  and  soldiering  our  men  go  a-'  y, 
leaving  beliind  them  a  continually  growing  surplus  o'"  marriagi .  .  le 
but  un:  ari'cd  spinsters,  who  cannot  !^pin,  and  ■.,1  >  ar  :  uticrly 
i.;!iah  V  (i  id  themselves  h'"=bands.     This  is  a   wide  field  on   the 

vlis''i'i  uoti  ot  which  1  must  not  enter.  1  merely  indicate  it  as  one 
ut  tho-r  departments  in  which  an  intelligent  philanthropy  might 
finv!  a  gre.!  -DJierc  for  its  endeavours;  but  it  would  be  better  not 
to  touch  it  at  ;i:l  than  to  deal  with  it  with  light-hearted  precipitancy 
and  without  due  consideration  of  all  the  difficulties' and  dangers 
connected  therewith.  Obstacles,  however,  exist  to  be  overcome  and 
converted  into  victories.  There  is  even  a  certain  fascination  about 
the  difficult  and  dangerous,  which  appeals  very  strongly  to  all  who 
know  that  it  is  the  apparently  insolvable  difficulty  which  contains 
within  its  bosom  the  key  to  the  problem  which  you  are  seeking  to 
solve. 


;  I 


1^        I 


II 


Section  8.— WHITECHArKL-BY-THE-SEA. 


In  considering  the  various  meati?  by  vhich  some  substantial 
improvement  can  be  made  in  the  mdL  of  the  toiHng  masses, 
recreation  cannot  be  omitted.  *  li  ^-e  repeatedly  liad  forced 
upon  me  the  desirabihty  of  making  "  possible  for  them  to  spend 
a  few  hours  occasionally  by  the  seaside,  or  even  at  times  three  or 
four  days.  Notwithstanding  t.  rV.apencd  rates  and  frequent 
excursions,  there  are  multitudes  of  the  poor  who,  yenr  in  and 
out,  never  get  beyond  the  crowded  city,  with  the  exception  of 
dragging  themselves  and  their  children  now  and  then  to  the  parks 
on  holidays  or  hot  summer  evenings.  The  majority,  especially 
the  inhabitants  of  the  East  of  London,  never  get  away  from 
the  sunless  alleys  and  grimy  streets  in  which  they  exist  from 
year  to  year.  It  is  true  that  a  few  here  and  there  of  the  adult 
population,  and  a  good  many  of  the  children,  have  a  sort 
of  annual  charity  excursir n  to  Epping  Forest,  Hampton  Court,  or 
perhaps  to  the  sea.  But  it  is  only  the  minority.  The  vast  number, 
while  possessed  of  a  passionate  love  of  the  sea,  which  only  those 
who  have  mixed  with  them  can  conceive,  pass  their  whole  lives 
without  having  once  looked  over  its  blue  waters,  or  watched  its 
waves  breaking  at  their  feet. 

Now  I  am  not  so  foolish  as  to  dream  that  it  is  possible  to  make  any 
such  change  in  Society  as  will  enable  the  poor  man  to  take  his 
wife  and  children  for  a  fortnight's  sojourn,  during  the  oppressive 
summer  days,  to  brace  them  up  for  their  winter's  task,  although  this 
might  be  as  desirable  in  their  case  as  in  that  of  their  more  highly 
favoured  fellow-cre?tures.  But  I  would  make  it  possible  for  every 
man,  woman  and  child,  to  get,  now  and  then,  a  day's  refreshing 
change  by  a  visit  to  that  never-failing  source  of  interest. 

In  the  carry]  'g  out  of  this  plan,  we  are  met  at  the  onset  with  a 
difficulty  of  Sf  iDC  litde  magnitude,  and    that  is  the  necessity  of  a 


^^]il 


238 


WHITECHAPEL-BY-THE-SEA. 


Pi 


» 

e 

« 


vastly  reduced  rliaige  in  the  cost  of  the  journey.  To  do  anything 
effective  we  must  be  able  to  get  a  man  trom  Whitcchapel  or  Stratford 
to  the  sea-side  and  back  for  a  shilHng. 

Unfortunately,  London  is  sixty  miles  from  the  sea.  Suppose  we 
take  it  at  seventy  miles.  This  would  involve  a  journey  of  one 
hundred  and  forty  miles  for  the  small  sum  of  is.  Can  this  be  done?  I 
think  it  can,  and  done  to  pay  the  railway  companies  ;  otherwise 
there  is  no  ground  to  hope  for  this  part  of  my  Scheme  ever  being 
realised.  But  I  think  that  this  great  boon  can  be  granted  to  the 
poor  people  without  the  dividends  being  sensibly  affected.  I  am 
told  that  the  cost  of  haulage  for  an  ordinary  passenger  train, 
carrying  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  persons,  is  2s.  7d.  per  mile  ; 
a  railway  company  could  take  si.\  hundred  passengers  seventy  miles 
there,  and  bring  them  seventy  miles  back,  at  a  cost  of  ;^i8  is.  8d. 
Six  hundred  passengers  at  a  shilling  is  ;^30,  so  that  there  would  be  a 
clear  profit  to  the  company  of  nearly  ^12  on  the  haulage,  towards 
the  payment  of  interest  on  the  capital,  wear  and  tear  of  line,  &c. 
But  I  reckon,  at  a  very  moderate  computation,  that  two  hundred 
thousand  persons  would  travel  to  and  fro  every  season.  An  addition 
of  ;^ 1 0,000  to  the  exchequer  of  a  railway  company  is  not  to  be 
despised,  and  this  would  be  a  mere  bagatelle  to  the  indirect  profits  which 
would  follow  the  establishment  of  a  settlement  which  must  in  due 
course  necessarily  become  very  speedily  a  large  and  active  com- 
munity. 

This  it  would  be  necessary  to  bring  home  to  the  railway  com- 
panies, and  for  the  execution  of  this  part  of  my  Scheme  I  must  wait 
till  I  get  some  manager  sufficiently  public-spirited  to  try  the  experi- 
ment When  such  a  man  is  found,  1  purpose  to  set  at  once  about 
my  Sea-Side  Establishment.  This  will  pwesent  the  following  special 
advantages,  which  I  am  quite  certain  will  be  duly  appreciated  by  the 
very  poorest  of  the  London  population  : — 

An  estate  of  some  three  hundred  acres  would  be  purchased,  on 
which  buildings  would  be  erected,  calculated  to  meet  the  wants  of 
this  class  of  excursionists. 

Refreshments  would  be  provided  at  rates  very  sbnilar  to  those 
charged  at  our  London  Food  Dcpfts.  There  would,  of  course,  be 
greater  facilities  in  the  way  of  rooms  and  accommodation  generally. 

Lodgings  for  invalids,  children,  and  those  requiring  to  make  a 
short  stay  in  the  place  would  be  supplied  at  the  lowest  prices.  Beds 
for  single  men  and  single  women  could  be  charged  at  the  low  rate 


A    BRIGHTON    FOR   THE    EAST   END. 


239 


of  sixpence  a  night,  and  children  in  proportion,  wiiile  accommoda- 
tion of  a  suitable  character,  on  very  moderate  terms,  could  be 
arranged  for  married  people. 

No  public-houses  would  be  allowed  within  the  precincts  of  the 
settlement. 

A  park,  playground,  music,  boats,  covered  conveniences  for 
bathing,  without  the  e.xpensc  of  hiring  a  machine,  and  other  arrange- 
ments for  the  comfort  and  enioyment  of  the  people  would  be  provided. 

The  estate  would  form  one  of  tlic  Colonics  of  the  gcMienil  enter- 
prise, and  on  it  would  be  grown  fruit,  vegetables,  flowers,  and  other 
produce  for  the  use  of  the  visitors,  and  sold  at  the  lowest  remunera- 
tive rates.  One  of  the  first  provisions  for  the  comfort  of  the 
excursionists  would  be  the  erection  of  a  large  hall,  affording  ample 
shelter  in  case  of  unfavourable  weather,  and  in  this  and  other  parts 
of  the  place  there  would  be  the  fullest  opportunity  for  ministers  of  all 
denominations  to  hold  religious  services  in  connection  with  any 
excursionists  they  might  bring  with  them. 

There  would  be  shops  for  tradesmen,  houses  for  residents,  a 
museum  with  a  panorama  and  stuffed  whale  ;  boats  would  be  let  out 
at  moderate  prices,  and  a  steamer  to  carry  people  so  many  miles  out 
to  sea,  and  so  many  miles  back  for  a  penny,  with  a  possible  bout  of 
sickness,  for  which  no  extra  charge  would  be  made. 

In  fact  the  railway  fares  and  refreshment  arrangements  would  be 
»n  stjcn  a  scale,  that  a  husband  and  wife  could  have  a  70-mile  ride 
through  the  green  fields,  the  new-mown  hay,  the  waving  grain  or 
fruit  laden  orchards  ;  could  wander  for  hours  on  the  seashore,  have 
comforting  and  nourishing  refreshment,  and  be  landed  back  at  home 
sober,  cheered  and  invigorated  for  the  small  sum  of  3s.  A  couple 
of  children  under  12  might  be  added  at  is.  6d. — nay,  a  whole  family, 
husband,  wife  and  four  children,  supposing  one  is  in  arms,  could  have 
a  day  at  the  seaside,  without  obligation  or  charity,  for  5s. 

The  gaunt,  hungry  inhabitants  of  the  Slums  would  save  up  their 
halfpence,  and  come  by  thousands  ;  clergymen  would  find  it  possible 
to  bring  half  the  poor  and  needy  occupants  of  their  parishes ; 
schools,  mothers'  meetings,  and  philanthropic  societies  of  all 
descriptions  would  come  down  wholesale ;  in  short,  what  Brighton 
is  to  the  West  End  and  middle  classes,  this  place  would  be  to  the 
East  End  poor,  nay,  'o  the  poor  of  the  Metropolis  generally,  a 
Whitechapel-by-the-Sea. 


In 


240 


WHITECHAPEL-BY-THE-SEA. 


I. 


Now  this  ought  to  be  done  apart  from  my  Sohciiu' altogether.  The 
rich  corporations  which  have  tlic  charge  of  the  atVairs  ot'  this  great 
City,  and  the  milhonaircs,  wlio  would  never  have  amassed  their 
fortunes  but  by  the  assistance  of  the  masses,  ought  to  say  it  shall  be 
done.  Suppose  the  Railway  Companies  refused  to  lend  the  great 
highways  of  which  they  have  become  the  monopolists  for  such  an 
undertaking  without  a  subvention,  then  the  necessary  subvention 
should  be  fort!irf)ming.  If  it  could  be  made  possible  for  tiie  joyless 
toilers  to  come  out  of  the  sweater's  den,  or  the  stifling  factory  ;  if  the 
seamstress  could  leave  lier  needle,  and  the  mother  get  away  from  the 
weary  round  of  babydom  and  household  diudgery  for  a  day  now  and 
then,  to  the  cooling,  invigorating,  heart-stiiring  influences  of  the  sea, 
it  should  be  done,  even  if  it  did  cost  a  few  paltry  tiiousands.  Let  the 
men  and  women  who  spend  a  little  fortune  every  year  in  Continental 
tours,  Alpine  climbings,  yacht  excursions,  and  many  another  form  of 
luxurious  wanderings,  come  forward  and  say  that  it  shall  be  possible 
for  these  crowds  of  their  less  fortunate  brethren  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  spending  one  day  at  least  in  the  year  by  the  sea. 


I*'  ■  »i 


I 

t 

I 

t, 

t 

I 


^iii 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CAN  IT  BE  DONE,  'VND  HOW? 

SEfTfON  I.— THE  CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  SALVATION  ARMY. 

Can  this  great  work  be  done?  I  beiieve  it  can.  And  I  believe 
that  it  can  be  clone  by  the  Salvation  Army,  because  it  has  ready 
to  hand  an  organisation  of  men  and  women,  numerous  enough 
and  zealous  enough  to  grapple  with  the  enormous  undertaking. 
The  work  may  prove  beyond  our  powers.  But  this  is  not  so 
manifest  as  to  preclude  us  from  wishing  to  make  the  attempt. 
That  in  itself  is  a  qualification  which  is  shared  by  no  other 
organisation — at  present.  If  we  can  do  it  we  have  the  field  entirely 
to  ourselves.  The  wealthy  churches  show  no  inclination  to  com- 
pete for  the  onerous  privilege  of  making  the  experiment  in  this  defi- 
nite and  practical  form.  Whether  we  have  the  power  or  not,  we 
have,  at  least,  the  will,  the  ambition  to  do  this  great  thing  for  the 
sake  of  our  brethren,  and  therein  lies  our  first  credential  for  being 
entrusted  with  the  enterprise. 

The  second  credential  is  the  fact  that,  while  using  all  material 
means,  our  reliance  is  on  the  co-working  power  of  God.  We 
keep  our  powder  dry,  but  we  trust  in  Jehovah.  We  go  not 
forth  in  our  own  strength  to  this  battle,  our  dependence  is 
upon  Him  who  can  influence  the  heart  of  man.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  the  most  satisfactory  method  of  raising  a  man 
must  be  to  effect  such  a  change  in  his  viowj  and  feelings  that  he 
shall  voluntarily  abandon  his  evil  ways,  give  himself  to  i industry  and 
goodness  in  the  midst  of  the  very  tempt-'tions  and  ccm^.^nionships 
that  before  led  him  astray,  and  live  .'  C  hristian  life.  ;vr.  example  in 
himself  of  what  can  be  done  by  the  po.ver  of  God  in  the  very  face 
of  the  most  impossible  circumstances. 


lit 


m 
1 1; 


242 


THE   CREDENTIALS   OF   THE   SALVATION  ARMY. 


But  herein  lies  the  great  difficulty  again  and  again  referred  to,  men 
have  not  that  force  of  character  which  will  constrain  them  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  methods  of  deliverance.  Now  our  Scheme  is 
based  on  the  necessity  of  helping  such. 

Our  third  credential  is  the  fact  that  we  have  already  out  of 
practically  nothing  achieved  so  great  a  measure  of  success  that  we 
think  we  may  reasonably  be  entrusted  with  this  further  duty.  The 
ordinary  operations  of  the  Army  have  already  effected  most  wonder- 
ful changes  in  the  conditions  of  the  poorest  and  worst.  Multituder. 
of  slaves  of  vice  in  every  form  have  been  delivered  not  only  from 
these  habits,  but  from  the  destitution  and  misery  which  they  ever 
produce.  Instances  have  been  given.  Any  number  more  can  be 
produced.  Our  experience,  wkich  has  been  almost  world-wide,  has  ever 
shown  that  not  only  does  the  criminal  become  honest,  the  drunkard 
sober,  the  harlot  chaste,  but  that  poverty  of  the  most  abject  and 
helpless  type  vanishes  away. 

Our  fourth  credential  is  that  our  Organisation  alone  of  England's 
religious  bodies  is  founded  upon  the  principle  of  implicit  obcH-ence. 

For  Discipline  I  can  answer.  The  Salvation  Army,  largely 
recruited  from  among  the  poorest  of  the  poor,  is  often  reproached  by 
its  enemies  on  account  of  the  severity  of  its  rule.  It  is  the  only 
religious  body  founded  in  our  time  that  is  based  upon  the  principle 
of  voluntary  subjection  to  an  al)solute  authority.  No  one  is  bouii'l 
to  remain  in  the  Army  a  day  longer  than  he  pleases.  While  ho 
reiTnaino  there  he  is  bound  by  the  conditions  of  the  Service.  The 
first  condition  of  that  Stivice  is  implicit,  unquestioning  obedience. 
The  Salvationist  is  taught  to  obey  as  is  the  soldier  on  the  field  of 
battle. 

Frofn  the  time  when  the  Salvation  Ai  my  began  to  acquire  strength 
and  to  grow  from  the  grain  of  mustard  seed  until  now,  when  its 
branches  overshadow  the  whole  earth,  we  have  been  constantly 
warned  against  the  evils  which  this  autocratic  system  would  en^^.il. 
Especially  were  we  told  that  in  a  democratic  age  the  people  would 
never  stand  the  estabhshment  of  what  was  described  as  a  spiriual 
despotism.  It  was  contrary  '.o  the  spirit  of  the  times,  it  would  be  a 
stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  f  fence  to  the  masses  to  whom  we 
appeal,  and  so  forth  and  so  lorth. 

But  what  has  been  the  ans^ver  of  accomplished  fact^s  to  these 
preJictions  of  theorists?  Despite  the  alleged  unpopularity  of  our 
discipline,  perhaps  because    of  the  rigour  of  military  authority  upon 


TEN    THOUSAND    OFFICERS. 


243 


which  we  have  insisted,  the  Salvation  Army  has  grown  from  year  to 
year  with  a  rapidity  to  which  nothing  in  modern  Christendom 
affords  any  parallel.  It  is  only  twenty-five  years  since  it  was  born. 
It  is  now  the  largest  Home  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  in  the 
Protestant  world.  We  have  nearly  10,000  officers  under  our  orders, 
a  number  increasing  every  day,  every  one  of  whom  has  taken  service 
on  the  express  condition  that  he  or  she  v/ill  obey  without  questioning 
or  gainsaying  the  orders  from  Headquarters.  Of  these,  4,600  are 
in  Great  Britain.  The  greatest  number  outside  these  islands,  in 
any  one  country,  are  in  the  American  Republic,  where  we  have  1,0 1 8 
officers,  and  democratic  Australia,  where  we  have  800. 

Nor  is  the  submission  to  our  discipline  a  mere  paper  loyalty. 
These  officers  are  in  the  field,  constantly  exposed  to  privation  and 
ill-treatment  of  all  kinds.  A  telegram  from  me  will  send  any  of 
them  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  will  transfer  them  from 
the  Slums  of  London  to  San  I'rancisco,  or  despatch  them  to  assist 
in  opening  missions  in  Holland,  Zululand,  Sweden,  or  South 
America.  So  far  from  resenting  the  exercise  of  authority,  the 
Salvation  Army  rejoices  to  recognise  it  as  one  great  secret  of 
its  success,  a  pillar  of  strength  upon  which  all  its  soldiers  can 
rely,  a  principle  which  stamps  it  as  being  different  from  all  other 
religious  organisations  founded  in  our  day. 

With  ten  thousand  officers,  tniined  to  obey,  and  trained  equally 
to  command,  I  do  not  feel  th^t  the  organisation  even  of  the  dis- 
organised, sweated,  hopeless,  drink-sodden  denizens  of  darkest 
England  is  impossible.  It  is  possible,  because  it  has  already  been 
accomplished  in  the  case  of  thousands  who,  before  they  were  saved, 
were  even  such  as  those  whose  evil  lot  we  are  now  attempting 
to  deal  with. 

Ou"-  fifth  credential  is  the  extent  and  universality  of  the 
Army.  What  a  mighty  agency  for  working  out  the  Scheme  is 
found  in  the  Army  la  this  respect  I  This  will  be  apparent  when 
we  consider  that  it  has  already  stretched  itself  through  over 
thirty  different  Countries  and  Colonies,  with  a  permanent  location  in 
something  like  4,000  different  places,  that  it  has  either  soldiers 
or  friends  sufficiently  in  sympathy  with  it  to  render  assistance  in 
almost  every  considerable  population  in  the  civilised  world,  and 
in  much  of  the  uncivilised,  that  it  has  nearly  I0,000  separated 
officers  whose  training,  and  leisure,  and  history  qualify  them  to 
beocmte    its   enthusiastic    and    earnest    co-workers.      I      fact,    our 


I 


m 


•  'I' 


111.1 


244 


THE   CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  SALVATION  ARMY. 


11    V, 

ii  ' 

r 


whole  people  will  hail  it  as  the  missing  link  in  the  great  Scheme 
for  the  regeneration  of  mankind,  enabling  them  to  act  out  those 
impulses  of  their  hearts  which  are  ever  prompting  them  to  do 
good  to  the  bodies  as  well  as  to  the  souls  of  men. 

Take  the  meetings.  With  few  exceptions,  every  one  of  these  four 
thousand  centres  has  a  Hall  in  which,  on  every  evening  in  the  week 
and  from  early  morning  until  nearly  midnight  on  every  Sabbath, 
services  are  being  held  ;  that  nearly  every  service  held  indoors  is  pre- 
ceded by  one  out  of  doors,  the  special  purport  of  ever}'  one  being 
the  saving  of  these  wretched  crowds.  Indeed,  when  this  Scheme  is 
perfected  and  fairly  at  work,  every  meeting  and  every  procession  will 
be  looked  upon  as  an  advertisement  of  the  earthly  as  well  as  the 
heavenly  conditions  of  happiness.  And  every  Barracks  and  Officer's 
quarters  will  become  a  centre  where  poor  sinful  suffering  men  and 
women  may  find  sympathy,  counsel,  and  practical  assistance  in  every 
sorrow  that  can  possibly  come  upon  them,  and  every  Officer 
throughout  our  ranks  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  will  become 
a  co-worker. 

See  how  usefu'  our  people  will  be  in  the  gathering  in  of  this  class. 
They  are  in  touch  with  tliem.  They  live  in  the  same  street,  work 
in  the  same  shops  and  factories,  and  come  in  contact  with  them  at 
every  turn  and  corner  of  life.  If  they  don't  live  amongst  them,  they 
formerly  did.  They  know  where  to  find  them  ;  they  are  their  old 
chump,  pot-house  companions,  and  pals  in  crime  and  mischief.  This 
class  is  the  perpetual  difficulty  of  a  Salvationist's  life.  He 
feels  that  there  is  no  help  for  them  in  the  conditions  in  which 
they  are  at  present  found.  They  are  so  hopelessly  weak,  and  their 
temptations  are  so  terribly  strong,  that  they  go  down  before  them. 
The  Salvationist  feels  this  when  he  attacks  them  in  the  tap-rooms, 
in  the  low  lodging  houses,  or  in  their  own  desolate  homes.  Hence, 
with  many,  the  Crusader  has  lost  all  heart.  He  has  tried  them  so 
often.  Bv-,  this  Scheme  of  taking  them  right  away  from  their  old 
haunts  and  temptations  will  put  new  life  into  him  and  he  will  gather 
up  the  poor  social  wrecks  wholesale,  pass  them  along,  and  then  go 
and  hunt  for  more. 

Then  see  how  useful  this  army  of  Officers  and  Soldiers  will  be  for 
the  regeneration  of  this  festering  mass  of  vice  and  crime  when  it  is, 
so  to  speak,  in  our  possession. 

All  the  thousands  of  drunkards,  and  harlots,  and  blasphemers,  and 
idlers  have  to  be  made  over  again,  to  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  their 


SET  A  ROGUE  TO  CATCH  A  ROGUE. 


245 


minds,  that  is — made  good.  What  a  host  of  moral  workers  will  be  re- 
quired to  accomplish  such  a  gigantic  transformation.  In  the  Army  we 
have  a  few  thousands  ready,  anyway  we  have  as  many  as  can  be 
used  at  the  outset,  and  the  Scheme  itself  will  go  on  manufacturing 
more.     Look  at  the  qualifications  of  these  warriors  for  the  work ! 

They  have  been  trained  themselves,  brought  into  line  and  are 
examples  of  the  characters  we  want  to  produce. 

They  understand  their  pupils — having  been  dug  out  of  the  same 
pit.  Set  a  rogue  to  catch  a  rogue,  they  say,  that  is,  we  suppose, 
a  reformed  rogue.  Anyway,  it  is  so  with  us.  These  rough-and- 
read}'  warriors  will  work  slioulder  to  shoulder  with  them  in  the 
same  manual  employment.  They  will  engage  in  the  task  for  love. 
This  is  a  substantial  part  of  their  religion,  the  moving  instinct  of 
the  new  heavenly  nature  that  has  come  upon  them.  They  want 
to  spend  their  lives  in  doing  good.     Here  will  be  an  opportunity. 

Then  sec  how  useful  these  Soldiers  will  be  for  distribution  !  Every 
Salvation  Officer  and  Soldier  in  every  one  of  these  4,000  centres, 
scattered  through  these  thirty  odd  countries  and  colonies,  with  all 
their  correspondents  a;id  friends  and  comrades  living  elsewhere,  will 
be  ever  on  the  watch-tower  looking  out  for  homes  and  employments 
where  these  rescued  men  and  women  can  be  fixed  up  to  advantage, 
nursed  into  moral  vigour,  picked  up  again  on  stumbling,  and  watched 
over  generally  until  able  to  travel  the  rough  and  slippery  paths  of 
life  alone. 

I  am.  therefore,  not  without  warrant  for  my  confidence  in  the 
possibility  of  doing  great  things,  if  the  problem  so  long  deemed 
hopeless  be  approached  with  intelligence  and  determination  on  a 
scale  corresponding  to  the  magnitude  of  the  evil  with  which  we 
have  to  cope. 


I 


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P'Vl 


Section  2.— HOW  MUCH  WILL  IT  COST? 

A  considerable  amount  of  money  will  be  required  to  fairly  launch 
this  Scheme,  and  some  income  may  be  necessary  to  sustain  it  for  a 
season,  but,  once  fairly  afloat,  we  think  there  is  good  reason  to 
believe  that  in  all  its  branches  it  will  be  self-supporting,  unless  its 
area  of  operation  is  largely  extended,  on  which  we  fully  rely.  Of 
course,  the  cost  of  the  effort  must  depend  very  much  upon  its  magni- 
tude. If  anything  is  to  be  done  commensurate  with  the  extent  of 
the  evil,  it  will  necessarily  require  a  proportionate  outlay.  If  it  is 
only  the  drainage  of  a  garden  that  is  undertaken,  a  few  pounds  will 
meet  the  cost,  but  if  it  is  a  great  dismal  swamp  of  many  miles  in 
area,  harbouring  all  manner  of  vermin,  and  breeding  all  kinds  of 
deadly  malaria,  that  has  to  be  reclaimed  and  cultivated,  a  very 
different  sum  will  not  only  be  found  necessary,  but  be  deemed  an 
economic  investment. 

Seeing  that  the  country  pays  out  something  like  Ten  Millions  per 
annum  in  Poor  Law  and  Charitable  Relief  without  securing  any  real 
abatement  of  the  evil,  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  public  will  hasten  to 
supply  one-tenth  of  that  sum.  If  you  reckon  that  of  the  submerged 
tenth  we  have  one  million  to  deal  with,  this  will  only  be  one  pound 
per  head  for  each  of  those  whom  it  is  sought  to  benefit,  or  say 

ONE     MILLION     STKRLING 

to  give  the  present  Scheme  a  fair  chance  of  getting  into  practical 
operation. 

According  to  the  amount  furnished,  must  necessarily  be  the  extent 
of  our  operations.  We  have  carefully  calculated  that  with  one 
hundred  thousand  pounds  the  scheme  can  be  successfully  set  in 
motion,  and  that  it  can  be  kept  going  on  an  annual  income  of 
A30,ooo  which  is  about  three  and  a-quarter  per  cent,  on  the  balance 
of  the  million  sterling,  for  which  I  ask  as  an  earnest  that  the  public 
intend  to  put  its  hand  to  this  business  with  serious  resolution ; 
and  our  judgment  is  based,  not  on  any  mere  imaginings,  but  upon 
the  actual  result  of  the  experiments  already  made.  Still  it  must  be 
remcmberec'  that  so  vast  and  desirable  an  end  cannot  be  even 
pracucaT  '  i:onteni plated  without  a  proportionate  financial  outlay. 

Supposing,  however,  by  the  subscription  of  this  amount  the  under- 
taking it  airly  set  afloat.     The  question  may  be  asked,  "  What  further 


FINANCING    THE    CITY    COLONY. 


247 


v^ 


funds  will  be  required  for  its  efficient  maintenance  ?  "  This  question 
we  proceed  to  answer.  Let  us  look  at  the  three  Colonies  apart,  and 
then  at  some  of  the  circumstances  which  apply  to  the  whole.  To 
begin  with,  there  is 

THE   FINANCIAL    ASPECT   OF   THE    CITY    COLONY. 

Here  there  will  be,  of  course,  a  considerable  outlay  required  for 
the  purchasing  and  fitting  up  of  prope-ty,  the  acquisition  of  machinery, 
furniture,  tools,  and  the  necessary  pltnt  for  carrying  forward  all  these 
varied  operations.  These  once  ac(iuired,  no  f\irther  outlay  will  be 
needed  except  for  the  necessary  repiirations. 

The  Homes  for  the  Destitute  will  be  nearly,  if  not  quite,  self- 
sustaining.  The  Superior  Homes  for  both  Single  and  Married 
people  vill  not  only  pay  for  themselves,  but  return  some  interest 
on  the  i  mount  invented,  which  would  be  devoted  to  the  futherance 
of  other  ^)arts  of  the  Scheme. 

The  Refuges  for  Fallen  Girls  would  require  ^'Considerable  funds 
to  keep  them  going.  But  the  public  has  never  beer  slow  to 
practically  express  its  sympathy  with  this  class  of  work. 

The  Criminal  Homes  and  Prison  Gate  Operations  would  require 
continued  help,  but  not  a  very  great  deil.  Then,  the  work  in  the 
Slums  is  somewhat  expensivt.  The  eighty  young  women  at 
present  engaged  in  it  cost  on  nn  average  I2s.  per  week  each  for 
personal  maintenance,  inclusive  of  clolhes  and  other  littli  matters, 
and  there  are  expenses  for  Halls  an*  some  little  relief  which 
cannot  in  anyway  be  avoided,  bringin;  mr  present  annual  Slum 
outlay  to  over  ;^4,ooo.  But  the  poor  ople  amongst  whom  they 
work,  notwithstanding  their  extreme  po\  ty,  are  already  contributing 
over  ;^i,ooo  per  annum  towards  this  amount,  which  income  will 
increase.  Still  as  by  this  Scheme  v  propose  to  add  at  once  a 
hundred  to  the  number  already  enea,  'd,  money  will  be  required 
to  keep  this  department  going. 

The  Inebriate  Home,  I  calculate,  will  maintain  itself  All  its 
inmates  will  have  to  engage  in  some  kind  of  remunerative  labour,  and 
we  calculate,  in  addition,  upon  recr  ving  mone}'  with  a  con- 
siderable number  of  those  availint;  themselves  ot  its  benefits. 
But  to  practically  assist  the  half-million  slaves  of  the  cup  we 
must  have  money  not  only  to  launch  out  but  to  keep  our  operations 
going. 

The  Food  Depots,  once  fitted  up;  pay  their  own  working  expenses. 


<■'':. 


il.' 


ii^^m^-i 


248 


HOW    MUCH    WILL    IT    COiT  ' 


. 

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r 

1 

■ 

.  1 

t 

1. 

I 

41 

I! 


The  Eniigratiuii,  Advice,  and  lii(|uiry  lUircaux  imist  niainiain 
thenisolvrs  or  nearly  so. 

Tlie  Labour  Shops,  Anti-Sweatin|?,  and  otiicr  similar  operations 
will  without  question  require  money  to  niai<e  ends  meet. 

But  on  the  whole,  a  very  small  sum  t)i"  money,  in  proportion  to  the 
immense  amount  of  work  done,  will  enable  us  to  accomplish  a  vast 
deal  of  good. 

TlIK    KARM    COLONY    FROM    A    FINANCI.M,    POINT    OK   VIKW. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  F*arm  Colony,  and  consider  it  from  a 
monetary  standpoint.  Here  also  a  certain  amount  of  money  will 
have  to  be  expended  at  the  outset  ;  some  of  the  chief  items  of  which 
will  be  the  purchase  of  land,  the  erection  of  buildings,  the  supply 
of  stock,  ami  the  production  of  first  crops.  There  is  an  abundance 
of  land  in  the  market,  at  the  present  time,  at  very  low  |)rices. 

It  is  rather  important  for  the  initial  experiment  that  all  estate 
slioull  be  obtained  not  too  far  from  London,  with  lantl  suitable  for 
inmiediate  cultivation.  Sucli  an  estate  would  beyond  question  be 
expensive.  At"ter  a  time,  1  have  no  doubt,  we  shall  be  able  to  deal 
with  land  of  ahnost  any  quality  (and  that  in  almost  any  part  of  the 
countiy),  in  consequence  of  the  superabundance  oi'  labour  we  shall 
possess.  Tiiere  is  no  question  if  the  scheme  goes  forward,  but 
that  estates  will  be  required  in  connection  with  all  our  huge  towns 
and  cities.  I  am  not  without  hope  that  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
land  will  be  given,  or,  in  any  way,  sold  to  us  on  very  favourable 
teims. 

When  acquired  and  stocked,  it  is  calculated  that  this  land,  if  culti- 
vated bv  spade  husbandry,  will  support  at  least  two  persons  per 
acre.  The  ordinary  reckoning  of  those  who  have  iiad  experience 
with  allotments  gives  five  persons  to  three  acres.  But,  even  sup- 
posing that  this  calculation  is  a  little  too  sanguine,  we  can  still 
reckon  a  farm  of  5cx:  acres  supporting,  without  any  outside  assist- 
ance, say,  750  persons.  But,  in  this  Scheme,  we  should  have  many 
advantages  not  possessed  by  the  simple  peasant,  such  as  those 
resulting  from  combination,  market  gardening,  and  the  other  forms 
of  cultivation  already  referred  to,  and  thus  we  should  want  to  place 
two  or  three  times  this  number  on  that  quantity  of  land. 

By  a  combination  of  City  and  Town  Colonies,  there  will  be  a 
market  for  at  least  a  large  portion  of  the  products.  At  the  rate  of 
our  present  consumption  in  the  London   Food  Depots  and  Homes 


THE    FINANCIAL   ASPECT    OF    THE    FARM. 


249 


for  the  Destitute  alone,  at  least  50  acres  would  be  required  for 
potatoes  alone,  and  every  additional  Colonist  would  be  an  additional 
consumer. 

There  will  be  no  rent  to  pay,  as  it  is  proposed  to  buy  the  land  right 
out.  In  the  event  of  a  great  rush  being  made  for  the  allotments 
spoken    >f,  further  land  might  be  rented,  with  option  of  purchase. 

Of  course,  the  continuous  change  of  labourers  would  tell  against 
the  profitableness  of  the  undertaking.  But  this  would  be  proportionally 
beneficial  to  the  country,  seeing  that  everyone  who  passes  through 
the  institution  with  credit  makes  one  less  in  the  helpless  crowd. 

The  rent  of  Cottages  and  Allotments  would  constitute  a  small 
return,  and  at  least  pay  interest  on  the  money  invested  in  them. 

The  labour  spent  upon  the  Colony  would  be  constantly  in- 
creasing its  money  value.  Cottages  would  be  built,  oichards 
olanted,  land  enriched,  factories  run  up,  warehouses  erected,  while 
other  improvements  would  be  continually  going  forward.  All  the 
labour  and  a  large  part  of  the  mate  ial  would  be  provided  by  the 
Colonists  themselves. 

It  may  be  suggested  that  the  workers  would  have  to  be  main- 
tained during  the  progjress  of  these  erections  and  manufactures,  the 
cost  of  which  would  in  itself  amount  to  a  considerable  sum.  True, 
and  for  this  the  first  outlay  would  be  required.  But  after  this  every 
cottage  erected,  every  road  made,  in  short  every  structure  and  im- 
provement, would  be  a  means  of  carrying  forward  the  regenerating 
process,  and  in  many  cases  it  is  expected  will  become  a  source  of 
income. 

As  the  Scheme  progresses,  it  is  not  irrational  to  expect  that 
Government,  or  some  of  the  varied  Local  Authorities,  will  assist 
in  the  working  out  of  a  plan  which,  in  so  marked  a  manner, 
will  relieve  the  rates  and  taxes  of  the  country. 

The  salaries  of  Officers  would  be  in  keeping  with  those  given 
in  the  Salvation  Army,  which  are  very  low. 

No  wages  would  be  paid  to  Colonists,  as  has  been  described, 
beyond  pocket  money  and  a  trifle  for  extra  service. 

Although  no  permanent  invalid  would  be  knowingly  taken  into 
the  Colonies,  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  there  will  be  a  certain  number, 
and  also  a  considerable  residuum  of  naturally  indolent,  half-witted 
people,  incapable  of  improvement,  left  upon  our  hands.  Still,  it  is 
thought  that  with  reformed  habits,  variety  of  employment,  and 
careful  oversight,  such  may  be  made  to  earn  their  own  maintenance, 


"iX'Mnt 


250 


HOW    MUCH    WILL    IT    COST  ? 


* 
t 


at  least,  especially  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  unless  they  work, 
so  far  as  they  have  ability,  they  cannot  remain  in  the  Colony. 

If  the  Household  Salvage  Scheme  which  has  been  explained  in 
Chapter  II.  proves  the  success  we  anticipate,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  great  financial  assistance  will  be  rendered  by  it  to  the  entire 
scheme  when  once  the  whole  thing  has  been  brought  into  work- 
ing order. 

THE    FINANCI/L   ASPECT    OF   THE   COLONY  OVER-SEA. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Colony  Over-Sea,  and  regard  it  also  from 
the  financial  standpoint.  Here  we  must  occupy  ourselves  chiefly 
with  the  preliminary  outlay,  as  we  could  not  for  a  moment  contem- 
plate having  to  find  money  to  assist  it  when  once  fairly  established. 
The  initial  expense  will,  no  doubt,  be  somewhat  heavy,  but  not  beyond 
a  reasonable  amount. 

The  land  required  would  probably  be  given,  whether  we  go  to 
Africa,  Canada,  or  elsewhere  ;  anyway,  it  would  be  acquired  on 
such  easy   terms  as  would  be  a  near  approach  to  a  gift. 

A  considerable  sum  would  certainly  be  necessary  for  effecting 
the  first  settlements.  There  would  be  temporary  buildings  to  erect, 
land  to  break  up  and  crop ;  stock,  farm  implements,  and  furniture 
to  purchase,  and  other  similar  expenses.  But  this  would  not  be 
undertaken  on  a  large  scale,  as  we  should  rely,  to  some  extent,  on 
the  successive  batches  of  Colonists  more  or  less  providing  for 
themselves,    and    in  this  respect  working  out    their  own  salvation. 

The  amount  advanced  for  passages,  outfit  money,  and  settlement 
would  be  repaid  by  instalments  by  the  Colonists,  which  would  in  turn 
serve  to  pay  the  cost  of  conveying  others  to  the  same  destination. 

Passage  and  outfit  money  would,  no  doubt,  continue  to  be  some 
difficulty,  ;^8  per  head,  say  to  Africa — ;^5  passage  money,  and  jC^ 
for  the  journey  across  the  country — is  a  large  sum  when  a  considerable 
number  are  involved  ;  and  I  am  afraid  no  Colony  would  be  reached 
at  a  much  lower  rate.  But  I  am  not  without  hope  that  the 
Government  might  assist  us  in  this  direction. 

Taking  up  the  entire  question,  that  is  of  the  three  Colonies,  we 
are  satisfied  that  the  sum  named  will  suffice  to  set  to  work  an 
agency  which  will  probably  rescue  from  lives  of  degradation  and 
immorality  an  immense  number  of  people,  and  that  an  income  of  some- 
thing like  ;^30,ooo  will  keep  it  afloat.  But  supposing  that  a  much 
larger  amount  should  be  required,  by  operations  greatly  in  advance 


A    MILLION    STERLING  I 


2S1 


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Es  chiefly 
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tablished. 
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we  go  to 
quired  on 

■  effecting 
5  to  erect, 

furniture 
lid  not  be 
extent,  on 
nding  for 
salvation, 
settlement 
aid  in  turn 
estination. 
3  be  some 
y,  and  ;^3 
nsiderable 
)e  reached 

that  the 

)lonies,  we 
work  an 
lation  and 
e  of  some- 
at  a  much 
n  advance 


of  those  here  spoken  of,  which  we  think  exceedingly  probable,  it  is  not 
unreasonable  to  expect  that  it  will  be  forthcoming,  seeing  that  caring 
for  the  poor  is  not  only  a  duty  of  universal  obligation,  a  root 
principle  of  all  religion,  but  an  instinct  of  humanity  not  likely  to 
be  abolished  in  our  time.  We  are  not  opposed  to  charity  as  such, 
but  to  the  mode  of  its  administration,  which,  instead  of  permanently 
relieving,  only  demoralises  and  plunges  the  recipients  lower  in  the 
mire,  and  so  defeats  its  own  purpose. 

'*  What  !  "  I  think  I  hear  some  say,  "  a  million  sterling  !  how  can 
any  man  out  of  Bedlam  dream  of  raising  such  a  sum?"  Stop  a 
little  !  A  million  may  be  a  great  deal  to  pay  for  a  diamond  or  a 
palace,  but  it  is  a  mere  trifle  compared  with  the  sums  which  Britain 
lavishes  whenever  Britons  are  in  need  of  deliverance  if  they  happen 
to  be  imprisoned  abroad.  The  King  of  Ashantee  had  captive  some 
Briti-sh  subjects — not  even  of  English  birth — in  1869.  John  Bull 
despatched  General  Wolseley  with  the  pick  of  tlie  British  army,  who 
smashed  Koffee  Kalkallee,  liberated  the  captives,  and  burnt  Coomassie, 
and  never  winced  when  t.ie  bill  came  in  for  ;^7  50,000.  But  that  was 
a  mere  trifle.  When  King  Theodore,  of  Abyssinia,  made  captives  of 
a  couple  of  British  representatives.  Lord  Napier  was  despatched  to 
rescue.  He  marched  his  army  to  Magdala,  brought  back  the  prisoners, 
and  left  King  Theodore  dead.  The  cost  of  that  expedition  was  over 
nine  millions  sterling.  The  Egyptian  Campaign,  that  smashed 
Arabi,  cost  nearly  five  millions.  The  rush  to  Khartoum,  that  arri/ed 
too  late  to  rescue  General  Gordon,  cost  at  least  as  much.  The 
Afghan  war  cost  twenty-one  millions  sterling.  Who  dares  then  to 
say  that  Britain  cannot  provide  a  million  sterling  to  rescue,  not  one 
or  two  captives,  but  a  million,  whose  lot  is  quite  as  doleful  as  that  of 
the  prisoners  of  savage  kings,  but  who  are  to  be  found,  not  in  the 
land  of  the  Soudan,  or  in  the  swamps  of  Ashantee,  or  in  the  Moun- 
tains of  the  Moon,  but  here  at  our  very  doors  ?  Don't  talk  to 
me  about  the  impossibility  of  raising  the  million.  Nothing  is 
impossible  when  Britain  is  in  earnest.  All  talk  of  impossibility  only 
means  that  you  don't  believe  that  the  nation  cares  to  enter  upon  a 
serious  campaign  against  the  enemy  at  our  gates.  When  John  Bull 
goes  to  the  wars  he  does  not  count  the  cost.  And  who  dare  ueny 
that  the  time  has  fully  come  for  a  declaration  of  war  against  the 
Social  Evils  which  seem  to  shut  out  God  from  this  our  world  ? 


mil  r  II  iinii  ii'iTtiifiTl-J'  ^mWH| 


r 

*  I 
»   i 


Sect  .ON  3.— SOME  ADVANTAGES  STATED. 

This  Scheme  takes  into  its  embrace  all  kinds  and  classes  of  men 
who  may  be  in  destitute  circumstances,  irrespective  of  their  character 
or  conduct,  and  cliarges  itself  with  supplying  at  once  their 
temporal  needs  ;  and  then  aims  at  placing  thcni  in  a  permanent 
position  of  comparative  comfort,  the  only  stipulation  made  being  a 
willingness  to  work  and  to  conform  to  discipline  on  the  part  of 
those  receiving  its  benefit. 

While  at  the  commencement,  we  must  impose  some  limits  with 
respect  to  age  and  sickness,  we  hope,  when  fairly  at  work,  to  be 
able  to  dispense  with  even  these  restrictions,  and  to  receive  any 
unfortunate  individual  who  has  only  his  misery  to  recommend  him 
and  an  honest  desire  to  get  out  of  it. 

It  will  be  seen  that,  in  this  respect,  the  Scheme  stands  head  and 
shoulders  above  any  plan  that  has  ever  been  mooted  before,  seeing 
that  nearly  all  the  other  charitable  and  remedial  proposals  more  or 
less  confess  their  utter  inability  to  benefit  any  but  what  they  term 
the  "  decent  "  working  man. 

This  Scheme  seeks  out  by  all  manner  of  agencies,  marvellously 
adapted  for  the  task,  the  classes  whose  welfare  it  contemplates, 
and,  b}-  varied  measures  and  motives  adapted  to  their  circum- 
stances, compels  them  to  accept  its  benefits. 

Our  Plan  contemplates  nothing  short  of  revolutionising  the 
character  of  those  whose  faults  are  the  reason  for  their  destitution. 
We  have  seen  that  with  fully  fifty  per  cent,  of  these  their  own 
evil  conduct  is  the  cause  of  their  wretchedness.  To  stop  short  with 
them  of  anything  less  than  a  real  change  of  heart  will  be  to 
invite  and  ensure  failure.  But  this  we  are  confident  of  effecting — 
anyway,  in  the  great  majority  of  cases,  by  reasonings  and  per- 
suasions, concerning  both  earthly  and  heavenly  advantages,  hy 
the  power  of  man,  and  by  the  power  of  God. 


A    FRESH    START    IN    LIFE. 


253 


r   circuni- 


By  this  Sclicmc  any  man,  no  miif'cr  how  deeply  he  may  have 
fallen  in  self-respect  ami  the  esteem  (if  ;ill  about  him,  may  rr-cnter 
life  afresh,  with  the  prospect  of  re-cstablisliing  his  character  wlien 
lost,  or  perhaps  of  estahlishinj^  a  character  for  the  first  time,  and 
so  obtaining  an  introJiiction  to  decent  employment,  and  a  claim  for 
admission  into  Society  as  a  good  citizen.  While  many  of  this  crowd 
are  absolutely  without  a  decent  friend,  otht  is  will  have,  on  that 
higher  level  of  respectabi'ity  they  once  occupied,  some  relative,  or 
friend,  or  employer,  who  occasionally  thinks  of  tin  m,  and  who,  if 
only  satisfied  that  a  real  change  has  taken  place  in  the  prodigal,  will 
not  only   he  will'ng,  but  delighted,   to  '  'Ip  them  oiu<    more. 

Hy  this  Scheme,  we  believe  we  shall  be  able  to  teai  li  liabits  of 
economy,  household  management,  thrift,  and  liic  like.  There  arc 
numbers  of  men  who,  although  suffering  the  direst  pangs  of  poverty, 
know  little  or  nothing  about  the  value  of  money,  or  the  prudent  use  of 
it;  and  there  are  hundreds  of  poor  women  who  do  not  know  what  a 
decently-managed  hon.c  is,  and  who  could  not  make  one  if  they  had 
the  most  ample  means  and  tried  eve  •■  so  hard  to  accomplish  it, 
having  never  seen  anything  but  dirt,  disorder,  and  misery  in  their 
domestic  history.  They  could  not  cook  a  dinner  or  prepare  a  meal 
decently  if  their  lives  were  dependent  on  it,  nc\  cr  having  had  a 
chance  of  learning  how  to  do  it.  But  by  this  Scheme  we  hope  to 
teach  these  things. 

By  this  Flan,  habits  of  cleanliness  will  be  created,  and  some 
knowledge  of  sanitary  questions  in  general  will  be  imparted. 

This  Scheme  changes  the  circumstances  of  those  whose  poverty 
is  caused  by  their  misfortune. 

To  begin  with,  it  finds  work  for  the  unemployed.  This  is  the 
chief  need.  The  great  problem  thai  has  for  ages  been  puzzling 
the  brains  of  the  political  cc  lomist  and  philanthropist  has  been— 
*'  How  can  we  find  these  pc  pie  work  ?  "  No  matter  what  other 
helps  are  discovered,  without  work  there  is  no  real  ground  for 
hope.  Charity  and  all  the  other  ten  thousand  devices  are  only 
temporarv  expedients,  altogether  insufficient  to  meet  the  necessity. 
Work,  apart  from  the  fact  that  it  is  God's  method  of  supplying 
the  wants  of  man's  composite  nature,  is  an  essential  to  his 
well-being  in  every  way — and  on  this  Plan  there  is  work, 
honourable  work — none  of  your  demoralising  stone-breaking, 
or  oakum-picking  business,  which  tantalises  and  insults  poverty. 
Every  worker  will  fe  el  that  he  is  not  only    occupied   for  his  own 


^-y 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


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Sciences 

Corporation 


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<> 


23  WfST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MSSO 

(716)  873-4503 


254 


SOME    ADVANTAGES    STATED. 


p:f 


If   P 


m     ■!« 


W   I 


(  -« 


4 

1 
1    1 

•r 

1    ' 

in 

i 

f.-      .k 

1 

4.     » 

f 

1 

benefit,  but  that  any  advantage  reaped  over  and  above  that  which 
he  gains  himself  will  serve  to  lift  some  other  poor  wretch  out 
of  the  gutter. 

There  would  be  work  within  the  capacity  of  all.  Every  gift 
could  be  employed.  For  instance,  take  five  persons  on  the  Farm — 
a  baker,  a  tailor,  a  shoemaker,  a  cook,  and  an  agriculturist.  The 
baker  would  make  bread  for  all,  the  tailor  garments  for  all,  the 
shoemaker  shoes  for  all>  the  cook  would  cook  for  all,  and  the 
agriculturist  dig  for  all.  Those  who  know  anything  which  would 
be  useful  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Colony  will  be  set  to  do  it,  and 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  any  trade  or  profession  will  be  taught  one. 

This  Scheme  removes  the  vicious  and  criminal  classes  out  of  the 
sphere  of  those  temptations  before  which  they  have  invariably  fallen 
in  the  past.  Our  experience  goes  to  show  that  when  you  ha-  e,  by 
Divine  grace,  or  by  any  consideration  of  the  advantages  of  a  good 
life,  or  the  disadvantages  of  a  bad  one,  produced  in  a  man  circum- 
stanced as  those  whom  we  have  been  describing,  the  resolution  to 
turn  over  a  new  leaf,  the  temptations  and  difficulties  he  has  to 
encounter  will  ordinarily  master  him,  and  undo  all  that  has  been 
done,  if  he  still  continues  to  be  surrounded  by  old  companions  and 
allurements  to  sin. 

Now,  look  at  the  force  of  the  temptations  this  class  has  to  fight 
against.  What  is  it  that  leads  people  to  do  wrong — people  of  all 
classes,  rich  as  well  as  poor?  Not  the  desire  to  sin.  They  do 
net  want  to  sin  ;  many  of  them  do  not  know  what  sin  is,  but  they 
have  certain  appetites  or  natural  likings,  the  indulgence  of  which  is 
pleasant  to  them,  and  when  the  desire  for  their  ualawful  gratification  is 
aroused,  regardless  of  the  claims  of  God,  their  own  highest  interests, 
or  the  well-being  of  their  fellows,  they  are  carried  away  by  them ; 
and  thus  all  the  good  resolutions  they  have  made  in  the  past  come 
to  grief. 

For  instance,  take  the  temptation  which  comes  through  the  natural 
appetite,  hunger.  Here  is  a  man  who  has  been  at  a  religious 
meeting,  or  received  some  good  advice,  or,  perhaps,  just  come  out 
of  prison,  with  the  memories  of  the  hardships  he  has  suffered  fresh 
upon  him,  or  the  advice  of  the  chaplain  ringing  in  his  ears.  He 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  steal  no  more,  but  he  has  no  means 
of  earning  a  livelihood.  He  becomes  hungry.  What  is  he  to  do  ? 
A  loaf  of  bread  tempts  him,  or,  more  likely,  a  gold  chain  which  he 
can  turn  into  bread.      An  inward  struggle  commences,  he  tries  to 


MINIMISE    THE    TEMPTATIONS. 


255 


hat  which 
wretch  out 

ilvery  gift 
2  Farm — 
•ist.  The 
>r  all,  the 
,  and  the 
ich  would 
do  it,  and 
ught  one. 
»ut  of  the 
ibly  fallen 
1  ha-  e,  by 
jf  a  good 
n  circum- 
olution  to 
he  has  to 
has  been 
nions  and 

IS  to  fight 
pie  of  all 
They  do 
but  they 
f  which  is 
fication  is 
interests, 
jy  them; 
>ast  come 

e  natural 
religious 
come  out 
ed  fresh 
ftrs.  He 
o  means 
e  to  do  ? 
vhich  he 
:  tries  to 


I' 


stick  to  his  bargain,  but  the  hunger  goes  on  gnawing  within,  and 
it  may  be  there  is  a  wife  and  children  hungry  as  well  as  himself; 
so  he  yields  to  the  temptation,  takes  the  chain,  and  in  turn  the 
policeman  takes  him. 

Now  this  man  d'^es  not  want  to  do  wrong,  and  still  less  does 
he  want  to  go  to  prison.  In  a  sincere,  dreamy  way  he  desires 
to  be  good,  and  if  the  path  were  easier  for  him  he  would 
probably  walk  in  it. 

Again,  there  is  the  appetite  for  drink.  That  man  has  no 
thought  of  sinning  when  he  takes  his  first  glass.  Much  less 
does  he  want  to  get  drunk.  He  may  have  still  a  vivid  recollec- 
tion of  the  unpleasant  consequences  that  followed  his  last  spree, 
but  the  craving  is  on  him  ;  the  public-house  is  there  handy  ;  his 
companions  press  him  ;  he  yields,  and  falls,  and,  perhaps,  falls  to 
rise  no  more. 

We  might  amplify,  but  our  Scheme  proposes  to  take  the  poor 
slave  right  away  from  the  public-houses,  the  drink,  and  the  com- 
panions that  allure  him  to  it,  and  therefore  we  think  the  chances 
of  reformation  in  him  are  far  greater. 

Then  think  of  the  great  boon  this  Scheme  will  be  to  the 
children,  bringing  them  out  of  the  slums,  wretched  hovels,  and 
filthy  surroundings  in  which  they  are  being  reared  for  lives  of 
abomination  of  every  description,  into  the  fields,  amongst  the  green 
trees  and  cottage  homes,  where  they  can  grow  up  with  a  chance 
of  saving  both  body  and  soul. 

Think  again  of  the  change  this  Scheme  will  make  for  these  poor 
creatures  from  the  depressing,  demoralising  surroundings,  of  the 
sightly,  filthy  quarters  in  whi».h  they  are  huddled  together,  to  the 
pure  air  and  sights  and  sounds  of  the  country.  There  is  much 
talk  about  the  beneficial  influence  of  pictures,  music  and  litera- 
ture upon  the  multitudes.  Money,  like  water,  is  being  poured 
forth  to  supply  such  attractions  in  Museums,  People's  Palaces, 
and  the  like,  for  the  edification  and  amelioration  of  the  social 
condition  of  the  masses.  But  "  God  made  the  country,  man 
made  the  town,"  and  if  we  take  the  people  to  the  pictures  of  divine 
manufacture,  that  must  be  the  superior  plan. 

Again,  the  Scheme  is  capable  of  illimitable  application.  The 
plaister  can  be  made  as  large  as  the  wound.  The  wound  is  certainly 
a  very  extensive  one,  and  it  seems  at  first  sight  almost  ridiculous  for 
any  private  enterp-i.se  t  j  attempt  dealing  with  it.     Three  millions  of 


•it 


256 


SOME   ADVANTAGES   STATED. 


I    N' 


t 

it  I 


li  « 


»  !  i 

1.    ;    I 


h  :i 


people,  living  in  little  short  of  perpetual  misery  have  to  be  reached 
and  rescued  out  of  this  terrible  condition.  But  it  can  be  done,  and 
this  Scheme  will  do  it,  if  it  is  allowed  a  fair  chance.  Not  all  at 
once  ?  True !  It  will  take  time,  but  it  will  begin  to  tell  on  the 
festering  mass  straight  away.  Within  a  measurable  distance  we 
ought  to  be  able  to  take  out  of  this  black  sea  at  least  a  hundred 
individuals  a  week,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  this  number  should 
not  go  on  increasing. 

An  appreciable  impression  on  this  gulf  of  misery  would  be  imme- 
diately made,  not  only  for  those  who  are  rescued  from  its  dark 
waters,  but  for  those  who  are  left  behind,  seeing  that  for  every 
hundred  individuals  removed,  there  is  just  the  additional  work 
which  they  performed  for  those  who  remain.  It  might  not  be  much, 
but  still  it  would  soon  count  up.  Supposing  three  carpenters  are 
starving  on  employment  which  covered  one-third  of  their  time,  if 
you  take  two  away,  the  one  left  will  have  full  employment.  But  it 
will  be  for  the  public  to  fix,  by  their  contributions,  the  extent  of 
our  operations. 

The  benefits  bestowed  by  this  Scheme  will  be  permanent  in  dura- 
tion. It  will  be  seen  that  this  is  no  temporary  expedient,  such  as,  alas ! 
nearly  every  effort  hitherto  made  on  behalf  of  these  classes  has  been. 
Relief  Works,  Soup  Kitchens,  Enquiries  into  Character,  Emigration 
Schemes,  of  which  none  will  avail  themselves,  Charity  in  its 
hundred  forms,  Casual  Wards,  the  Union,  and  a  hundred  other 
Nostrums  may  serve  for  the  hour,  but  they  are  only  at  the  best 
palliations.  But  this  Scheme,  I  am  bold  to  say,  offers  a  sub- 
stantial and  permanent  remedy. 

In  relieving  one  section  of  the  community,  our  plan  involves  no 
interference  with  the  well-being  of  any  other.  (See  Chapter  VII. 
Section  4,  "  Objections.") 

This  Scheme  removes  the  all  but  insuperable  barrier  to  an  in- 
dustrious and  godly  Hfe.  It  means  not  only  the  leading  of  these 
lost  multitudes  out  of  the  "  City  of  Destruction  "  into  the  Canaan 
of  plenty,  but  the  lifting  of  them  up  to  the  same  level  of  advantage 
with  the  more  favoured  of  mankind  for  securing  the  salvation  of 
their  souls. 

Look  at  the  circumstances  of  hundreds  and  thousands  of  the 
classes  of  whom  we  are  speaking.  From  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  might 
not  their  influence  in  the  direction  of  Religious  Belief  be  summarised 
\a  one  sentence,  "Atheism  made  easy."    Let  my  readers  imagine  theirs 


i' 


L'!('   1 


!  reached 
lone,  and 
ot  all  at 
11  on  the 
tance  we 
hundred 
:r  should 

>e  imme- 
its  dark 
or  every 
nal  work 
be  much, 
Iters  are 
time,  if 
.  But  it 
ixtent  of 

in  dura- 

as,  alas ! 

las  been. 

nigration 

in    its 

ed  other 

the  best 

a  sub- 

olves  no 
iter  VII. 

an  in- 
of  these 

Canaan 
Ivantage 
ation  of 

of  the 
e,  might 
marised 
le  theirs 


THE    PEOPLE    MUST   BE    HELPED. 


257 


to  have  been  a  similar  lot.  Is  it  not  possible  that,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, they  might  have  entertained  some  serious  doubts  as 
to  the  existence  of  a  benevolent  God  who  would  thus  allow  His 
creatures  to  starve,  or  that  they  would  have  been  so  preoccupied  with 
their  temporal  miseries  as  to  have  no  heart  for  any  concern  about 
the  next  life  ? 

Take  a  man,  hungry  and  cold,  who  does  not  know  where  his 
next  meal  is  coming  from  ;  nay,  who  thinks  it  problematical  whether 
it  will  come  at  all.  We  know  his  thoughts  will  be  taken  up  entirely 
with  the  bread  he  needs  for  his  body.  What  he  wants  is  a  dinner. 
The  interests  of  his  soul  mus.  wait. 

Take  a  woman  v/ith  a  starving  family,  who  knows  that  as  soon 
as  Monday  comes  round  the  rent  must  be  paid,  or  else  she  and 
her  children  must  go  into  the  street,  and  her  little  belongings  be 
impounded.  At  the  present  moment  she  is  without  it.  Are  not 
her  thoughts  likely  to  wander  in  that  direction  if  she  slips  into  a 
Church  or  Mission  Hall,  or  Salvation  Army  Barracks  ? 

I  have  had  some  experience  on  this  subject,  a.id  have  been 
making  observations  with  respect  to  it  ever  since  the  day  I  made 
my  first  attempt  to  reach  these  starving,  hungry,  crowds — just 
over  forty-five  years  ago — and  I  am  quite  satisfitid  that  these 
multitudes  will  not  be  saved  in  their  present  circunstances.  All 
the  Clergymen,  Home  Missionaries,  Tract  Dipcributors,  Sick 
Visitors,  and  everyone  else  who  care  about  the  Salvation  of  the 
poor,  may  make  up  their  minds  as  to  that.  If  these  people  are 
to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  become  the  Servants  of  God,  and 
escape  the  miseries  of  the  wrath  to  come,  they  must  be  helped 
out  of  their  present  social  miseries.  They  must  be  put  into  a 
position  in  which  they  can  work  and  eat,  and  have  a  decent  room 
to  live  and  sleep  in,  and  see  something  before  them  besides  a 
long,  weary,  monotonous,  grinding  round  of  toil,  and  anxious  care 
to  keep  themselves  and  those  they  love  barely  alive,  with  nothing 
at  the  further  end  but  the  Hospital,  the  Union,  or  the  Madhouse.  If 
Christian  Workers  and  Philanthropists  will  join  hands  to  effect  this 
change  it  will  be  accomplished,  and  the  people  will  rise  up  and  bless 
them,  and  be  saved ;  if  they  will  not,  the  people  will  curse  them 
and  perish. 


I'' 


il 


i 

« 

i 

I 

* 

t 


^1,  m 


Section  4.— SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 

Objections  must  be  expected.  They  are  a  necessity  with  regard 
to  any  Scheme  that  has  not  yet  been  reduced  to  practice,  and 
simply  signify  foreseen  difficulties  in  the  working  of  it.  We  freely 
admit  that  there  are  abundance  of  difficulties  in  the  way  of  work- 
ing out  the  plan  smoothly  and  successfully  that  has  been  laid 
down.  But  many  of  these  we  imagine  will  vanish  when  we  come 
to  close  quarters,  and  the  remainder  will  be  surmounted  by 
courage  and  patience.  Should,  however,  this  plan  prove  the 
success  we  predict,  it  must  eventually  revolutionise  the  condition 
of  the  starving  sections  of  Society,  not  only  in  this  great  metro- 
polis, but  throughout  the  whole  range  of  civilisation.  It  must 
therefore  be  worthy  not  only  of  a  careful  consideration  but  of  per- 
severing trial. 

Some  of  these  difficulties  at  first  sight  appear  rather  serious. 
Let  us  look  at  them. 

Objection  I. — //  ts  suggested  that  the  class  of  people  for  whose 
benefit  the  Scheme  is  designed  would  not  avail  themselves  of  it. 

When  the  feast  was  prepared  and  the  invitation  had  gone  forth, 
it  is  said  that  the  starving  multitudes  would  not  come  ;  that  though 
labour  was  offered  them  in  the  City,  or  prepared  for  them  on  the 
Farm,  they  would  prefer  to  rot  in  their  present  miseries  rather 
than  avail  themselves  of  the  benefit  provided. 

In  order  to  gather  the  opinions  of  those  most  concerned,  we 
consulted  one  evening,  by  a  Census  in  our  London  Shelters, 
two  hundred  and  fifty  men  out  of  work,  and  all  suffering  severely 
in  consequence.  We  furnished  a  set  of  questions,  and  obtained 
answers  from  the  whole.  Now,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  these 
men  were  under  no  obligation  whatever  to  make  any  reply  to  our 
enquiries,  much  less  to  answer  them  favourably  to  our  plan,  of 
which  they  knew  next  to  nothing. 


WILLINGNESS   TO    WORK. 


259 


f  per- 


;d,  we 
lelters, 
verely 
tained 
these 
to  our 
an,  of 


These  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  were  mostly  in  the  prime  of 
life,  the  greater  portion  of  them  being  siiilled  workmen ;  an 
examination  of  the  return  papers  showing  that  out  of  the  entire 
number  two  hundred  and  seven  were  able  to  work  at  their  trades 
had  they  the  opportunity. 

The  number  of  trades  naturally  varied.  There  were  some  of  all 
kinds :  Engineers,  Custom  House  Officers,  Schoolmasteri  Watch 
and  Clockmakers,  Sailors,  and  men  of  the  different  brai  les  of 
the  Building  trade  ;  also  a  number  of  men  who  have  u  m  in 
business  on  their  own  account. 

The  average  amount  of  wages  earned  by  the  skilled  mechanics 
when  regularly  employed  was  33s.  per  week  ;  the  money  earned  by 
the  unskilled  averaged  22s.  per  week. 

They  could  not  be  accounted  lazy,  as  most  of  them,  when  not 
employed  at  their  own  trade  or  occupation,  had  proved  their  willing- 
ness to  work  by  getting  jobs  at  anything  that  turned  up.  Or.  looking 
ov^r  the  list  we  saw  that  one  who  had  been  a  Custom  House  Officer 
had  recently  acted  as  Carpenter's  Labourer ;  a  Type-founder  had 
been  glad  to  work  at  Chimney  Sweeping ;  the  Schoolmaster,  able  to 
speak  five  languages,  who  \v.  his  prosperous  days  had  owned  a  farm, 
was  glad  to  do  odd  jobs  as  a  Bricklayer's  Labourer ;  a  Gentleman's 
Valet,  who  once  earned  ;^S  a  week,  had  come  so  low  down  in  the 
world  that  he  was  glad  to  act  as  Sandwich  man  for  the  magnificent 
cum  of  fourteenpence  a  day,  and  that,  only  as  an  occasional  aifair. 
In  the  libt  was  a  dyer  and  cleaner,  married,  with  a  wife  and  nine 
children,  who  had  been  able  t(  earn  40s.  a  week,  but  had  done  no 
regular  work  for  three  years  out  of  the  last  ten. 

Wc  put  the  following  question  to  the  entire  number : — "  If  you 
were  put  on  a  farm,  and  set  to  work  at  anything  you  could  do, 
and  supplied  with  food,  lodging,  and  clothing,  with  a  view  to 
gettii  ;  you  on  to  your  feet,  would  you  be  willing  to  do  all  you 
could?" 

Iv.  response,  the  whole  250  replied  in  the  affirmative,  with  one 
exception,  and  on  enquiry  we  elicited  that,  being  a  sailor,  the 
man  was  afraid  he  would  not  know  how  to  do  the  work. 

On  being  interrogated  as  to  'heir  willingness  to  grapple  with  the 
hard  labour  on  the  land,  they  said  :  "  Why  should  we  not  ?  Look 
at  us.     Can  any  plight  be  more  miserable  than  ours  ?  " 

Why  not,  indeed  ?  A  glance  at  them  would  certainly  make  it 
impossibb  for  any  thoughtful  person   to  assign  a   rational  reason 


f. 


',)       -! 


260 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 


III 


h'  i 


I 

k 

■ 
1  ■ 

for  their  refusal — in  rags,  swarming  with  vermin,  hungry,  many  of 
them  Hving  on  scraps  of  food,  begged  or  earned  in  the  most 
haphazard  fashion,  without  sufficient  clothing  to  cover  .heir  poor 
gaunt  limbs,  most  of  them  without  a  shirt.  They  had  to  start  out 
the  next  morning,  uncertain  which  way  to  turn  to  earn  a  crust  for 
dinner,  or  the  fourpence  necessary  to  supply  them  again  with  the 
humble  shelter  they  had  enjoyed  that  night.  The  idea  of  their 
refusing  employment  which  would  supply  abundantly  the  necessaries 
of  life,  and  give  the  prospect  of  becoming,  in  process  of  time,  the  owner 
of  a  home,  with  its  comforts  and  companionships,  is  beyond  concep- 
tion. There  is  not  much  question  that  this  class  will  not  only  accept 
the  Scheme  we  want  to  set  before  them,  but  gratefully  do  all  in  their 
power  to  make  it  a  succss. 

II. — Too  many  would  come. 

This  would  be  very  probable.  There  would  certainly  be  too  many 
apply.  But  we  should  be  under  no  obligation  to  take  more  than 
was  convenient.  The  larger  the  number  of  applications  the  wider 
the  field  for  selection,  and  the  greater  the  necessity  for  the  enlargement 
of  our  operations. 

III. — T/iey  would  run  away. 

It  is  further  objected  that  if  they  did  come,  the  monotony  of  the 
life,  the  strangeness  of  the  work,  together  with  the  absence  of  the 
excitements  and  amusements  with  which  they  had  been  entertained  in 
the  cities  and  towns,  would  render  their  existence  unbearable.  Even 
when  left  to  the  streets,  there  is  an  amount  of  life  and  action  in  the 
city  which  is  very  attractive.  Doubtless  some  would  run  away, 
but  I  don't  think  this  would  be  a  large  proportion.  The  change 
would  be  so  great,  and  so  palpably  advantageous,  that  I  think 
they  would  find  in  it  ample  compensation  for  the  deprivation  of 
any  little  pleasureable  excitement  they  had  left  behind  them  in 
the  city.  For  instance,  there  would  be — 
A  Sufficiency  of  Food. 

The  friendliness  and  sympathy  of  their  new  associates.  There  would  be 
abundance  of  companions  of  similar  tastes  and  circumstances — not 
all  pious.  It  would  be  quite  another  matter  to  going  single-handed 
on  to  a  farm,  or  into  a  melancholy  family. 
Then  there  would  be  the  prospect  of  doing  well  for  themselves  in  the 
future,  together  wi:h  all  the  religious  life,  meetings,  music,  and 
freedom  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

But  what  says  our  experience  ? 


M 


THEY   WOULD    RUN    AWAYf 


261 


If  there  be  one  class  which  is  the  despair  of  the  social  reformer,  it 
is  that  which  is  variously  described,  but  which  we  may  term  the  lost 
women  of  our  streets.  From  the  point  of  view  of  the  industrial 
organiser,  they  suffer  from  almost  every  fault  that  human  material 
can  possess.  They  are,  with  some  exceptions,  untrained  to  labour, 
demoralised  by  a  life  of  debauchery,  accustomed  to  the  wildest 
license,  emancipated  from  all  discipline  but  that  of  starvation,  given 
to  drink,  and,  for  the  most  part,  impaired  in  health.  If,  therefore, 
any  considerable  number  of  this  class  can  be  shown  to  be  ready  to 
submit  themselves  voluntarily  to  discipline,  to  endure  deprivation 
of  drink,  and  to  apply  themselves  steadily  to  industry,  then  example 
will  go  a  long  way  towards  proving  that  even  the  woist  description 
of  humanity,  when  intelligently,  thoroughly  handled,  is  amenable  to 
discipline  and  willing  to  work.  In  our  British  Rescue  Homes  we 
receive  considerably  over  a  thousand  unfortunates  every  year  ;  while 
all  over  the  world,  our  annual  average  is  tv/o  thousand.  The  work 
has  been  in  progress  for  three  years — long  enough  to  enable  us  to 
test  very  fully  the  capacity  of  the  class  in  question  to  reform. 

With  us  there  is  no  compulsion.  If  any  girl  wishes  to  remain,  she 
remains.  If  she  wishes  to  go,  she  goes.  No  one  is  detained  a  day 
or  an  hour  longer  than  they  choose  to  stay.  Yet  our  experience 
shows  that,  as  a  rule,  they  do  not  run  away.  Much  more  restless 
and  thoughtless  and  given  to  change,  as  a  class,  than  men,  the 
girls  do  not,  in  any  considerable  numbers,  desert.  The  average 
of  our  London  Homes^  for  the  last  three  years,  gives  only  14  per 
cent,  as  leaving  on  therr  own  account,  while  for  the  year  1889 
only  5  per  cent.  And  the  entire  number,  who  have  either  left 
or  been  dismissed'  during  that  year,  amounts  only  to  1 3  per  cent, 
on  the  whole. 

IV. — They  would  not  work. 

Of  course,  to  such  as  had  for  years  been  leading  idle  lives, 
anything  like  work  and  exhaustive  labour  would  be  very 
trying  and  wearisonie,  and  a  little  patience  and  coaxing  might  be 
required  to  get  them  into  the  way  of  it.  Perhaps  some  would  be 
hopelessly  beyond  salvation  in  this  respect,  and,  until  the  time  comes, 
if  it  ever  does  arrive,  when  the  Government  will  make  it  a  crime 
for  an  abled-bodied  man  to  beg  when  there  is  an  opportunity  for 
him  to  engage  in  remunerative  work,  this  class  will  wander  abroad 
preying  upon  a  generous  public.  It  will,  however,  only  need  to  be 
known  that  any  man  can  obtain  work  if  he   wants  it,  for  those 


^ 

.!"! 


Ij^i 


ii' 


262 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 


t 

i" 


1     ^' 


j 

fj  ■ 

m 

^: 

who  have  by  their  liberality  maintained  men  and  women  in  idle- 
ness to  cease  doing  so.  And  when  it  comes  to  this  pass,  that  a 
man  cannot  eat  without  working,  of  the  two  evils  he  will  choose  the 
latter,  preferring  labour,  however  unpleasant  it  may  be  to  hi., 
tastes,  to  actual  starvation. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  penalty  of  certain  expulsion, 
which  all  would  be  given  to  understand  would  be  strictly  enforced 
would  have  a  good  influence  in  inducing  the  idlest  to  give  work  a  iair 
trial,  and  once  at  it  I  should  not  despair  of  conquering  the  aver- 
sion altogether,  and  eventually  being  able  to  transform  and  pass 
these  once  lazy  loafers  as  real  industrious  members  of  Society. 

Again,  any  who  have  fears  on  this  point  may  be  encouraged 
by  contrasting  the  varied  and  ever-changing  methods  of  labour  we 
should  pursue,  with  the  monotonous  and  uninteresting  grind  of  many 
of  the  ordinary  employments  of  the  poor,  and  the  circumstances  by 
which  they  are  surrounded. 

Here,  again,  we  fall  back  upon  our  actual  experience  in  reclamation 
work.  In  our  Homes  for  Saving  the  Lost  Women  we  have  no 
difficulty  of  getting  them  to  work.  The  idleness  of  this  section  of 
the  social  strata  has  been  before  referred  to  ;  it  is  not  for  a  moment 
denied,  and  there  can  be  no  question,  as  to  its  being  the  cause  of 
much  of  their  poverty  and  distress.  But  from  early  morn  until  the 
lights  are  out  at  night,  all  is  a  round  of  busy,  and,  to  a  great  extent, 
very  uninteresting  labour ;  while  the  girls  have,  as  a  human  induce- 
ment, only  domestic  service  to  look  forward  to — of  which  they  are 
in  no  way  particularly  enamoured — and  yet  here  is  no  mutiny,  no 
objection,  no  unwillingness  to  work ;  in  fact  they  appear  well 
pleased  to  be  kept  continually  at  it.  Here  is  a  report  that  teaches 
the  same  lesson. 

A  small  Bookbinding  Factory  is  worked  in  connection  with  the  Rescue  Homes 
in  London.  The  folderc  and  stitchers  are  girls  saved  from  the  streets,  but  who, 
for  various  reasons,  were  found  unsuitable  foi  domestic  service.  The  Factory 
has  solved  the  problem  of  employment  for  some  of  the  most  di.'licult  cases. 
Two  of  the  girls  at  present  employed  there  are  crippled,  while  one  is  supporting 
herself  and  two  young  children. 

While  learning  the  'vork  they  live  in  the  Rescue  Homes,  and  the  few 
shillings  they  are  able  to  earn  are  paid  into  the  Home  funds.  As  soon  as  they 
are  able  to  earn  12s.  a  week,  a  lodging  is  found  for  them  (with  Salvationists,  if 
possible),  and  they  are  placed  entirely  upon  their  own  resources.  The  majority 
of  girls  working  at  this  trade  in  London  are  living  in  the  family,  and  6s.,  7s.,  and 
8s.  a  week  make  an  acceptable  addition  to  the  Home  income ;  but  our  girls  who 


i 


WOULD    THLV    HAVE  THE     PHYSIQUE  r 


263 


no 


are  entirely  dependent  upon  their  own  earnings  must  mal^o  an  average  wage  ot 
I2S.  a  week  at  least.  In  order  tliat  they  may  do  tliis  wc  are  obliged  to  pay 
higher  wages  than  other  employers.  For  instance,  we  give  from  2jd.  to  3d.  a 
thousand  more  than  the  trade  for  binding  small  pamphlets  ;  nevertheless,  after 
the  Manager,  a  married  man,  is  paid,  and  a  man  for  the  superintendence  of  the 
machines,  a  profit  of  about  ^5CXJ  has  been  made,  and  the  work  \s  improving. 
They  are  all  paid  piecework. 

Eighteen  women  are  supporting  themselves  in  this  way  at  present,  and  con- 
ducting themselves  most  admirably.  One  of  their  number  acts  as  forewoman, 
and  conducts  the  Prayer  Meeting  at  12.30,  the  Two-minutes'  Prayer  after  meals, 
etc.  Their  continuance  in  the  factory  is  subject  to  their  good  behaviour — both 
at  home  as  well  as  at  work.  In  one  instance  only  have  we  had  any  trouble  at 
all,  and  in  this  solitary  case  the  girl  was  so  penitent  she  was  forgi'en,  and  has 
done  xvell  ever  since.  I  think  that,  without  exception,  they  arc  Salvation 
Soldiers,  and  will  be  found  at  nearly  every  meeting  on  the  Sabbath,  etc.  The 
binding  of  Salvation  Army  publications — " The  Deliverer,"  "All  the  World," 
the  Penny  Song  Books,  etc.,  almost  keep  us  going.  A  little  outside  work  for  the 
end  of  the  months  is  taken,  but  we  are  not  able  to  make  any  profit  generally,  it 
is  so  badly  paid. 

It  will  be  seen  thi  this  is  a  miniature  factory,  but  still  it  is  a 
factory,  and  worked  on  principles  that  will  admit  of  illimitable 
extension,  and  may,  I  think,  be  justly  regarded  asanenriuragementand 
an  exemplification  of  what  may  be  accomplished  in  endless  variations. 

V. — Again,  it  is  objected  that  the  class  ivhose  benefit  we  contemplate 
would  not  have  physical  ability  to  work  on  a  farm,  or  in  the  open  air. 

How,  il  is  asked,  would  tailors,  clerks,  weavers,  seamstresses 
and  the  destitute  people,  born  and  reared  in  the  slums  and  poverty- 
hovels  of  the  towns  and  cities,  do  farm  or  any  other  work  that  has 
to  do  with  the  land  ?  The  employment  in  the  open  air,  with 
exposure  to  every  kind  of  weather  which  accompanies  it,  would,  it 
is  said,  kill  them  off  right  away. 

We  reply,  that  the  division  of  labour  before  described  would 
render  it  as  unnecessary  as  it  would  be  undesirable  and  uneco- 
nomical, to  put  many  of  these  people  to  dig  or  to  plant.  Neither 
is  it  any  part  of  our  plan  to  do  so.  On  our  Scheme  we  have 
shown  how  each  one  would  be  appointed  to  that  kind  of  work  for 
which  his  previous  knowledge  and  experience  and  strength  best 
adapted  him. 

Moreover,  there  can  be  no  possible  comparison  between  the 
conditions  of  health  enjoyed  by  men  and  women  wandering  about 


i! 


1^ 

I- 


'Am 


A> 


9M 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 


III 


p-  :t 


I 
I 


homeless,  sleeping  in  the  streets  or  in  the  fever-haunted  lodging- 
houses,  or  living  huddled  up  in  a  single  room,  and  toiling  twelve 
and  fourteen  hours  in  a  sweater's  den,  and  living  in  comparative 
comfort  in  well-warmed  and  ventilated  houses,  situated  in  the  open 
country,  with  abundance  of  good,  healthy  food. 

Take  a  man  or  a  woman  out  into  the  fresh  air,  give  them  proper 
exercise,  and  substantial  food.  Supply  them  with  a  comfortable 
home,  cheerful  companions,  and  a  fair  prospect  of  reaching  a  position 
of  independence  in  this  or  some  other  land,  and  a  complete  renewal 
of  health  and  careful  increase  of  vigour  will,  we  expect,  be  one 
of  the  first  great  benefits  that  will  ensue. 

VI. — //  is  objected  that  we  should  be  left  with  a  considerable  residuum 
of  half-witted,  helpless  people. 

Doubtless  this  would  be  a  real  difficulty,  and  we  should  have  to 
prepare  for  it.  We  certainly,  at  the  outset,  should  have  to 
guard  against  too  many  of  this  class  being  left  upon  our 
hands,  although  we  should  not  be  compelled  to  keep  anyone. 
It  would,  however,  be  painful  to  have  to  send  them  back  to 
the  dreadful  life  from  which  we  had  rescued  them.  Still, 
however,  this  would  not  be  so  ruinous  a  risk,  looked  at 
financially,  as  some  would  imagine.  We  could,  we  think,  maintain 
them  for  4s.  per  week,  and  they  would  be  very  weak  indeed  in 
body,  and  very  wanting  in  mental,  strength  if  they  were  not  able 
to  earn  that  amount  in  some  one  of  the  many  forms  of  employment 
which  the  Colony  would  open  up. 

VII. — Again,  it  will  be  objected  that  some  efforts  of  a  similar 
character  have  failed.  For  instance,  co-operative  enterprises  in  farm- 
ing have  not  succeeded. 

True,  but  so  far  as  I  can  ascertain,  nothing  of  the  character  I 
am  describing  has  ever  been  attempted.  A  large  number  of 
Socialistic  communities  have  been  established  and  come  to  grief 
in  the  United  States,  in  Germany,  and  elsewhere,  but  they  have 
all,  both  in  principle  and  practice,  strikingly  differed  from  what 
we  are  proposing  here.  Take  one  particular  alone,  the  great 
bulk  of  these  societies  have  not  only  been  fashioned  without  any 
regard  to  the  principles  of  Christianity,  but,  in  the  vast  majority 
of  instances,  have  been  in  direct  opposition  to  them ;  and  the 
only  communities  based  on  co-operative  principles  that  have  sur- 
vived the  first  few  months  of  their  existence  have  been  based 
upon  Christian  truth.     If  not  absolute  successes,  there  have  been 


WILL   THEY   SUBMIT   TO    DISCIPLINE  f 


266 


some  very  remarkable  results  obtained  by  efforts  partaking  some- 
what of  the  nature  of  the  one  I  am  setting  forth.  (See  that  of 
Ralahinc,  described  in  Appendix.) 

VIII. — //  is  further  objected  that  it  zvnuhi  be  inifiossibh'  to  maintain 
order  and  enforce  good  discip/ine  amongst  this  class  of  people. 

We  arc  of  just  the  opposite  opinion.  We  think  that  it  would — 
nay,  we  arc  certain  of  it,  and  we  speak  as  those  who  have  had 
considerable  experience  in  dealing  with  the  lower  classes  of 
Society.  We  have  already  dealt  with  this  diHiculty.  We  may  say 
further — 

That  we  do  not  propose  to  commence  with  a  thousand  people 
in  a  wild,  untamed  state,  either  at  home  or  abroad.  To  the 
Colony  Over-Sea  we  should  send  none  but  those  who  have  had  a 
long  period  of  training  in  this  country.  The  bulk  of  those  sent 
to  the  Provincial  Farm  would  have  had  some  sort  of  trial  in  the 
different  City  Kstablishments.  We  should  only  draft  them  on  to 
the  Kstatc  in  small  numbers,  as  we  were  prepared  to  deal  with 
them,  aii'l  I  am  quite  satisfied  that  without  the  legal  methods  of 
maintaining  order  that  are  acted  upon  so  freely  in  workhouses 
and  other  similar  institutions,  we  should  have  as  perfect  obedience 
to  Law,  as  great  respect  for  authority,  and  as  strong  a  spirit  of 
kindness  pervading  all  ranks  throughout  the  whole  of  the  com- 
munity as  could  be  found  in  any  other  institution  in  the  land. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  our  Army  system  of  government 
largely  prepares  us,  if  it  does  not  qualify  us,  for  this  task.  Anyway, 
it  gives  us  a  f,'ood  start.  All  our  people  are  trained  in  habits  of 
obedience,  and  all  our  Officers  are  educated  in  the  exercise  of 
authority.  Tiie  Olficers  throughout  the  Colony  would  be  almost 
exclusively  recruited  from  the  ranks  of  the  Army,  and  everyone  of 
them  would  go  to  the  work,  both  theoretically  and  practically, 
familiar  with  those  principles  which  are  the  essence  of  good 
discipline. 

Tiicn  we  can  argue,  and  that  very  forcibly,  from  the  actual 
experience  we  have  already  had  in  dealing  with  this  class.  Take 
our  experience  in  the  Army  itself.  Look  at  the  order  of  our  Soldiers. 
Here  are  men  and  women,  who  have  no  temporal  interest  whatever 
at  stake,  receiving  no  remuneration,  often  sacrificing  their  earthly 
interests  by  their  union  with  us,  and  yet  see  how  they  fall  into  fine, 
and  obey  orders  in  the  promptest  manner,  even  when  such  orders 
go  right  in  the  teeth  of  their  temporal  interests. 


Ml 


.«J 


-iWIWtBpBJBIBMl'^**!*,'*' 


266 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 


t 


"  Yes,"  it  will  be  icplied  by  sonic,  "  this  is  all  very  excellent 
so  far  as  it  relates  to  those  who  are  altogether  of  your  own  way  of 
thinking.  \ou  can  oonnuaiui  thcni  as  you  please,  and  they  will 
obey,  but  what  pioof  have  you  given  of  your  ability  to  conti^ol  and 
discipline  those  who  are  not  of  your  way  of  thinking  ? 

"  You  can  do  that  with  your  Salvationists  because  they  are  saved, 
as  you  call  it.  When  men  are  born  again  you  can  do  anything  with 
them.  Hut  unles.s  you  convert  all  the  denizens  of  Darkest  England, 
what  chance  is  there  that  the}'  will  be  docile  to  your  discipline?  If 
they  were  soumlly  saveil  no  doul)t  soii.cthing  might  be  done.  Hut 
they  are  not  saved,  soundly  or  otherwise  ;  they  are  lost.  What 
reason  have  you  for  believing  that  they  will  be  amenable  to 
discipline?" 

I  admit  the  force  of  this  objection  ;  but  I  have  an  answer,  and  an 
answer  which  seems  to  me  complete.  Discipline,  and  that  of  the 
most  merciless  description,  is  enforced  upon  multitudes  of  these 
people  even  now.  Nothing  that  the  most  authoritative  organisation 
of  industry  could  devise  in  the  excess  of  absolute  power,  could 
for  a  moment  compare  with  the  slavery  enforced  to-day  in  the  dens 
of  the  sweater.  It  is  not  a  choice  between  liberty  and  discipline  that 
confronts  these  unfortunates,  but  between  discipline  mercilessly 
ertforced  by  starvation  and  inspired  by  futile  greed,  and  discipline 
accompanied  with  regular  rations  and  administered  solely  for  their 
own  benefit.  What  liberty  is  there  for  the  tailors  who  have  to  sew 
for  sixteen  to  twenty  hours  a  day,  in  a  pest-hole,  in  order  to  earn 
ten  shillings  a  week  ?'  There  is  no  tiiscipline  so  brutal  as  that  of  the 
sweater  ;  there  is  no  slavery  so  relentless  as  that  from  which  we 
seek  to  deliver  the  victims.  Compared  with  their  normal  condition 
of  existence,  the  most  rigorous  discipline  which  would  be  needed 
to  secure  the  complete  success  of  any  new  individual  organisation 
would  be  an  escape  from  slavery  into  freedom. 

You  may  reply,  "  that  it  might  be  so,  if  people  understood  their  own 
interest.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  do  not  understand  it,  and  that 
thej'  will  never  have  sufficient  far-sightedness  to  appreciate  the 
advantages  that  are  offered  them." 

To  this  I  answer,  that  here  also  I  do  not  speak  from  theory. 
I  lay  before  you  the  ascertained  results  of  years  of  experience. 
More  than  two  years  ago,  moved  by  the  misery  and  despair 
of  the  unemployed,  I  opened  the  Food  and  Shelter  Dep6ts  in 
London   already   described.       Here   are   a   large   number   of  men 


I 


IS   THE    SCHEME    TOO    BIG? 


267 


every  night,  many  of  them  of  the  lowest  type  of  casuals  who 
crawl  about  the  streets,  a  certain  proportion  criminals,  and 
about  as  dilllicult  a  class  to  manage  as  I  should  think  could  be 
got  together,  and  while  there  will  he  200  of  them  in  a  single 
building  night  after  night,  from  the  first  opening  of  tiie  doors  in  the 
evening  until  the  last  man  has  departed  in  the  morning,  there  shall 
scarcely  be  a  word  of  dissatisfaction  ;  anyway,  nothing  in  the  shape 
of  angry  temper  or  bad  language.  No  policemen  are  required  ; 
indeed  two  or  three  nights'  cxiRriciice  will  !)e  sufficient  to  turn  the 
regular  frequenters  of  the  place  of  their  own  free  will  into  Officers 
of  Order,  glad  not  only  to  keep  the  regulations  of  the  place,  but  to 
enforce  its  discipline  upon  others. 

Again,  every  Colonist,  whether  in  the  Cit;;  or  elsewhere,  would 
know  that  those  who  took  the  interest;  of  the  Colony  to  heart, 
were  loyal  to  its  authority  and  principles,  and  laboured  indus- 
triously in  promoting  its  inte)':;sts,  would  be  rewarded  accordingly 
by  promotion  to  positic.  ifi  of  influence  and  authority,  which 
would  also  carry  w^ih  t.'.em  temporal  advantages,  present  and 
prospective. 

But  one  o.  our  main  hopes  would  be  in  the  apprehension  by  the 
Colonists  of  ".e  f  xt  that  all  our  eflorts  were  put  forth  on  their 
beh  .If.  Every  man  and  woman  en  the  p. ice  would  know 
that  this  enterprise  was  begun  and  carried  on  solely  for  their 
benefit,  and  that  of  the  other  nembers  of  their  class,  and  that 
only  their  own  good  behaviour  and  co-operation  would  ensure 
their  reaping  a  personal  share  in  such  benefit.  Sti'.l  our  expectations 
would  be  largely  based  on  :he  creation  of  a  spirit  of  unselfish 
interest  in  the  community. 

IX.  Again,  it  is  objected  that  the  Scheme  is  too  vast  to  be  attempted  by 
voluntary  enterprise;  it  ought  to  be  taken  up  and  carried  out  by 
the  Gov:rnmen'  itself. 

Perhaps  so,  but  there  is  no  very  near  probability  of  Government 
undertaking  it,  and  we  arc  not  qrite  sure  whether  such  an  attempt 
would  prove  a  success  if  it  were  made  But  seeing  that  neither 
Governments,  nor  Society,  nor  individuals  have  stood  forward  to 
undertake  what  God  has  made  appear  to  us  lo  be  so  vitally  inpor- 
tant  a  work,  and  as  He  has  given  us  the  willingness,  and  in  many 
important  senses  the  ability,  we  arc  ;;rcpared,  if  the  financial  help 
is  furnished,  to  make  a  t'etermined  effort,  not  only  to  undertake  but 
to  can.,;  it  forward  to  a  triumphant  success. 


268 


SOME    OBJECTIONS    MET. 


X. — //  t's  objected  thai  the  c/asscs  we  seek  to  benefit  are  too 
ignorant  and  depraved  for  Christian  effort,  or  for  effort  of  any  kind,  to 
reach  and  reform. — 

Look  at  the  tramps,  the  drunkards,  the  harlots,  the  criminals.  How 
confirmed  they  are  in  their  idle  and  vicious  habits.  It  will  be  said, 
indeed  has  been  already  said  by  those  with  whom  I  have  con- 
versed, that  I  don't  know  them;  which  statement  cannot,  I  think, 
be  maintained,  for  if  I  don't  know  them,  who  does  ? 

I  admit,  however,  that  thousands  of  this  class  are  very  far  gone 
from  every  sentiment,  principle  and  practice  of  right  conduct. 
But  I  argue  that  these  poor  people  cannot  be  much  more 
unfavourable  subjects  for  the  work  of  regeneration  than  are  many 
of  the  savages  and  heathen  tribes,  in  the  conversion  of  whom 
Christians  universally  believe ;  for  whom  they  beg  large  sums 
of  money,  and  to  whom  they  serd  their  best  and  bravest  people. 

These  poor  people  are  certainly  embraced  in  the  Divine  plan  of 
mercy.  To  their  class,  the  Saviour  especially  gave  His  attention  when 
he  was  on  the  earth,  and  for  them  He  most  certainly  died  on  the  Cross. 

Some  of  the  best  examples  of  Christian  faith  and  practice,  and 
some  of  the  most  successful  workers  for  the  benefit  of  mankind, 
have  sprung  from  this  class,  of  which  we  have  instances  re- 
corded in  the  Bible,  and  any  number  in  the  history  of  the  Church 
and  of  the  Salvation  Army. 

It  may  be  objected  that  while  this  Scheme  would  undoubtedly 
assist  one  class  of  the  community  by  making  steady,  industrious 
workmen,  it  must  thereby  injure  another  class  by  introducing  so  many 
new  hands  into  the  labour  market,  already  so  seriously  overstocked. 

To  this  we  reply  that  there  is  certainly  an  appearance  of  force  in 
this  objection  ;  but  it  has,  I  think,  been  already  answered  in  the  fore- 
going pages.  Further,  if  the  increase  of  workers,  which  this  Scheme 
will  certainly  bring  about,  was  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  it,  it 
would  certainly  present  a  somewhat  serious  aspect.  But,  even  on 
that  supposition,  1  don't  see  how  the  skilled  worker  could  leave  his 
brothers  to  rot  in  their  present  wretchedness,  though  their  rescue 
should  involve  the  sharing  of  a  portion  of  his  wages. 

(i)  But  there  is  no  such  danger,  seeing  that  the  number  of  extra 
hands  thrown  on  the  British  Labour  Market  must  be  necessarily 
inconsiderable. 

(2)  The  increased  production  of  food  in  our  Farm  and  Colonial 
operations  must  indirectly  benefit  the  working  man. 


.il 


DRAINING    LABOUR    MARKETS. 


269 


|i  I 


(3)  The  taking  out  of  the  labour  market  of  a  large  number  of 
individuals  who  at  present  have  only  partial  work,  while  benefiting 
them,  must  of  necessity  afford  increased  labour  to  those  left  behind. 

(4)  While  every  poor  workless  individual  made  into  a  wage  earner 
will  of  necessity  have  increased  requirements  in  proportion.  For 
instance,  the  drunkard  who  has  had  to  manage  with  a  few  bricks,  a 
soap  box,  and  a  bundle  of  rags,  will  want  a  chair,  a  table,  a  bed,  and 
at  least  the  other  necessary  adjuncts  to  a  furnished  home,  however 
sparely  fitted  up  it  may  be. 

There  is  no  question  but  that  when  our  Colonisation  Scheme  is 
fairly  afloat  it  will  drain  off,  not  only  many  of  those  who  are  in  the 
morass,  but  a  large  number  who  are  on  the  verge  of  it.  Nay,  even 
artisans,  earning  what  are  considered  good  wages,  will  be  drawn  by 
the  desire  to  improve  their  circumstances,  or  to  raise  their  children 
under  more  favourable  surroundings,  or  from  still  nobler  motives,  to 
leave  the  old  country.  Then  it  is  expected  that  the  agricultural 
labourer  and  the  village  artisan,  who  are  ever  migrating  to  the  great 
towns  and  cities,  will  give  the  preference  to  the  Colony  Over-Sea, 
and  so  prevent  that  accumulation  of  cheap  labour  wliich  is  considered 
to  interfere  so  materially  with  the  maintenance  of  a  high  wages 
standard. 


ill 


.il^' 


liili 


Ifll 


Section  5.— RECAPITULATION. 

I  have  now  passed  in  review  the  leading  features  of  the 
'ocheme,  which  I  put  forward  as  one  that  is  calculated  to  considerably 
contribute  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  lowest 
stratum  of  our  Societ}'.  It  in  no  way  professes  to  be  complete 
in  all  its  details.  Anyone  may  at  any  point  lay  his  finger  on 
this,  that,  or  the  other  feture  of  the  Scheme,  and  show  some 
void  that  must  be  fillec  in  if  it  is  to  work  with  eftect.  There  is 
one  thing,  however,  that  can  be  gafely  said  in  excuse  for  the 
shortcomings  of  the  Scheme,  and  that  is  that  if  you  wait  until 
you  get  an  ideally  perfect  plan  you  will  have  to  wait  until  the 
Millennium,  and  then  you  will  not  need  it.  My  su  ,'gestions,  crude 
though  they  may  be,  have,  nevertli  :less,  one  el:ment  that  will  in 
time  supply  all  deficiencies.  There  is  life  in  them,  with  I'fe  there 
is  the  promise  and  power  oi  adaptaion  to  all  t  e  innumcratJe 
and  varying  circumstances  a  the  cL  :s  with  which  we  hnve  to 
deal.  Where  there  i-^  l:fo  there  is  infinite  power  of  adjus:ment. 
This  is  no  cast-iron  Schsmo,  Gorged  in  a  single  bi\..in  an;  ih:n  set 
up  as  a  standard  ;o  which  .1  must  conform.  It  is  a  s.urdy  piant, 
which  has  its  roots  deep  down  n  the  nature  and  circuiiiLt-.i  :;cs  c' 
men.  Nay,  I  believe  .1  th::  very  heart  of  God  Himscll.  I-  has 
already  grown  much,  and  will^  if  dury  nurtured  ;ind  tended,  grov,' 
still  further,  unti'  from  it,  as  Trom  tlxi  [';ram  oi  mustard-seed  in 
the  parable,  there  shall  apnug  »;;j>  a  grorX;  tree  who.ie  branches 
shall  overBhadow  all  tho  eai  wh- 
ence more  U.t  me  say,  I  claim  no  p:itent  rights  in  any  part  of  this 
Scheme.  Indeed,  I  d;:  ot  knov  wh.t  in  i':  is  original  and  what  is  not. 
Since  formulating  some  of  the  plans,  which  I  had  thought  were  new 
under  the  sun,  I  have  discovered  that  they  have  been  already  tried 
in  diflFerent  parts  of  the  world,  and  that  with  great  promise.  It  may 
be  so  'vith  others,  and  in  thifi  i  rejoice.    I   plead   for  no   exclusive- 


HAVE    YOU    A    BETTER    PLAN  ? 


2  71 


ness.  The  question  is  much  too  serious  for  such  fooling  as 
that.  Here  are  millions  of  our  fellow-creatures  perishing 
amidst  the  breakers  of  the  sea  of  life,  dashed  to  pieces 
on  sharp  rocks,  sucked  under  by  eddying  whirlpools,  suffo- 
cated even  when  they  think  they  have  reached  land  by  treacherous 
quicksands ;  to  save  them  from  this  imminent  destruction  I  suggest 
that  these  things  should  be  done.  If  you  have  any  better  plan  than 
mine  for  eflfecting  this  purpose,  in  God's  name  bring  it  to  the  light 
'and  get  it  carried  out  quiclil}'.  If  you  have  not,  then  lend  me  a 
hand  with  mine,  as  I  would  be  only  too  glad  to  lend  you  a  hand  with 
yours  if  it  had  in  it  greater  promise  of  successful  action  than  mine. 

In  a  Scheme  for  the  working  out  of  social  salvation  the  great,  the 
only,  test  that  is  worth  anything  is  the  success  with  which  they 
attain  the  object  for  which  they  are  devised.  An  ugly  old  tub  of 
a  boat  that  will  land  a  shipwrecked  sailor  safe  on  the  beach  is  worth 
more  to  him  than  the  finest  yacht  that  ever  left  a  slip-way  incapable 
of  effecting  the  same  object.  The  superfine  votaries  of  culture  may 
recoil  in  disgust  from  the  rough-and-ready  suggestions  which  I  have 
made  for  dealing  with  the  Sunken  Tenth,  but  mere  recoiling  is  no 
solution.  If  the  cultured  and  the  respectable  and  the  orthodox 
and  the  established  dignitaries  and  conventionalities  of  Society 
pass  by  on  the  other  side  we  cannot  follow  their  example. 
We  may  not  be  priests  and  Levites,  but  we  can  at  least 
play  the  part  of  the  Good  Samaritan.  The  man  who  went 
down  to  Jericho  and  fell  among  thieves  was  probably  a  very 
improvident,  reckless  individual,  who  ought  to  have  known 
better  than  to  go  roaming  alone  through  defiles  liaunted  by  banditti, 
whom  he  even  led  into  temptation  by  the  careless  way  in  which  he 
exposed  himself  and  his  good.i  to  their  avaricious  gaze.  It  was,  no 
doubt,  largely  his  own  fault  that  I.e  lay  there  bruised  and  senseless, 
and  ready  to  perish,  just  as  it  is  largely  the  fault  of  those  whom  we 
seek  to  help  that  they  lie  in  the  hdpless  plight  in  which  we  find 
them.  But  for  all  that,  let  us  bind  up  their  wound?  with  such  balm 
as  we  can  procure,  and,  setting  them  on  our  ass,  let  us  take  them  to 
our  Colony,  where  they  may  have  time  to  recover,  and  once  more  set 
forth  on  the  journey  of  life. 

And  now,  having  said  this  much  by  way  of  reply  to  some  of  my 
critics,  I  will  recapitulate  the  salient  features  of  the  Scheme.  I  laid 
down  at  the  beginning  certain  points  to  be  kept  in  view  as  embodying 
those  invariable  laws  or  principles  of  political  economy,  without  due 


272 


RECAPITULATION. 


k 


It      I' 


i 

Si 


regard  to  which  no  Scheme  can  hope  for  even  a  chance  of  success. 
Subject  to  these  conditions,  I  think  my  Scheme  will  pass  muster.  It 
is  large  enough  to  cope  with  the  evils  that  will  confront  us  ;  it  is 
practicable,  for  it  is  already  in  course  of  applicatioii,  and  it  is  capable 
of  indefinite  expansion.  But  it  would  be  better  to  pass  the  whole 
Scheme  in  its  more  salient  features  in  review  once  more. 

The  Scheme  will  seek  to  convey  benefit  to  the  destitute  classes  in 
various  ways  altogether  apart  from  their  entering  the  Colonies.  Men 
and  women  may  be  very  poor  and  in  very  great  sorrow,  nay,  on 
the  verge  of  actual  starvation,  and  yet  be  so  circumstanced  as  to  be 
unable  to  enrol  themselves  in  the  Colonial  ranks.  To  these 
our  cheap  Food  Depots,  our  Advice  Bureau,  Labour  Shops,  and 
other  agencies  will  prove  an  unspeakaHe  boon,  and  will  be  likely 
by  such  temporary  assistance  to  help  them  out  of  the  deep  gulf  in 
which  they  are  struggling.  Those  wno  need  permanent  assistance 
will  be  passed  on  to  the  City  Colony,  and  taken  directly  under  our 
control.  Here  they  will  be  employed  as  before  described.  Many 
will  be  sent  off  to  friends  ;  work  will  be  found  for  others  in  the  City 
or  elsewhere,  while  the  great  bulk,  after  reasonable  testing  as  to 
their  sincerity  and  willingness  to  assist  in  their  own  salvation,  will 
be  srnt  on  to  the  Farm  Colonies,  where  the  same  process  of 
reformation  and  training  will  be  continued,  and  unless  employment 
is  otherwise  obtained  they  will  then  be  passed  on  to  the  Over-Sea 
Colony. 

All  in  circumstances  of  destitution,  vice,  or  criminality  will  receive 
casual  assistance  or  be  taken  into  the  Colony,  on  the  sole  conditions 
of  their  being  anxious  for  deliverance,  and  willing  to  work  for  it, 
and  to  conform  to  discipline,  altogether  irrespective  of  character, 
ability,  religious  opinions,  or  anything  else. 

No  benefit  will  be  conferred  upon  any  individual  except  under 
extraordinary  circumstances,  without  some  return  being  made  in 
labour.  Even  where  relatives  and  friends  supply  money  to  the 
Colonists,  the  latter  must  take  their  share  of  work  with  their 
comrades.  We  shall  not  have  room  for  a  single  idler  throughout  all 
our  borders. 

The  labour  allotted  to  each  individual  will  be  chosen  in  view  of  his 
past  employment  or  ability.  Those  who  have  any  knowledge  of 
agriculture  will  naturally  be  put  to  work  on  the  land ;  the  shoemaker 
will  make  shoes,  the  weaver  cloth,  and  so  on.  And  when  there  is  no 
knowledge  of  any  handicraft,  the  aptitude  of  the  individual  and  the 


HAND  LABOUR. 


273 


1 1 


necessities  of  the  hour  will   suggest  the  sort  of  work  it  would  be 
most  profitable  for  such  an  one  to  learn. 

Work  of  all  descriptions  will  be  executed  as  far  as  possible  by 
hand  labour.  The  present  rage  for  machinery  has  tended  to  pro- 
duce much  destitution  by  supplanting  hand  labour  so  exclusively 
that  the  rush  has  been  from  the  human  to  the  m.achine.  We  want, 
as  far  as  is  practicable,  to  travel  back  from  the  machine  to  the 
human. 

Each  membci  of  the  Colony  would  receive  food,  clothing,  lodging, 
medicine,  and  all  necessary  care  in  case  of  sickness. 

No  wages  would  be  paid,  except  a  trifle  by  way  of  encouragement 
for  good  behaviour  and  industry,  or  to  those  occupying  positions  of 
trust,  part  of  which  will  be  saved  in  view  of  exigencies  in  our  Colonial 
Bank,  and  the  remainder  used  for  pocket  money. 

The  whole  Scheme  of  the  three  Colonies  will  for  all  practical 
purposes  be  regarded  as  one ;  hence  the  training  will  have  in  view 
the  qualification  of  the  Colonisu  for  ultimately  earning  their 
livelihood  in  the  world  altogether  independently  of  our  assistance, 
or,  failing  this,  fit  them  for  taking  some  permanent  work  within  our 
borders  either  at  home  or  abroad. 

Another  result  of  this  unity  of  the  Town  and  Country  Colonies 
will  be  the  removal  of  one  of  the  difficulties  ever  connected  with  the 
disposal  of  the  products  of  unemployed  labour.  The  food  from  the 
Farm  would  be  consumed  by  the  City,  while  many  of  the  things 
manufactured  in  the  City  would  be  consumed  on  the  Farm. 

The  continued  effort  of  all  concerned  in  the  reformation  of  these 
people  will  be  to  inspire  and  cultivate  those  habits,  the  want  of 
which  has  been  so  largely  the  cause  of  the  destitution  and  vice  of 
the  past. 

Strict  discipline,  involving  careful  and  continuous  oversight, 
would  be  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  order  amongst  so  large 
a  number  of  people,  many  of  whom  had  hitherto  lived  a  wild  and 
licentious  life.  Our  chief  reliance  in  this  respect  v/ould  be  upon  the 
spii'it  of  mutual  interest  that  would  prevail. 

The  entire  Colony  would  probably  be  divided  into  sections,  each 
under  the  supervision  of  a  sergeant — one  of  themselves — working 
side  by  side  with  them,  yet  responsible  for  the  behaviour  of  all. 

The  chief  Officers  of  the  Colony  would  be  individuals  who  had 
given  themselves  to  the  work,  not  for  a  livelihood,  but  from  a  desire 
to  be   useful   to   the   suffering   poor.       They    would    be    selected 


274 


RECAPITULATION. 


at  the  outset  from  the  Army,  and  that  on  the  ground  of  their 
possessing  certain  capabilities  for  the  position,  such  as  knowledge 
of  the  particular  kind  of  work  they  had  to  superintend,  or  their  being 
good  disciplinarians  and  having  the  faculty  for  controlling  men  and 
being  themselves  influenced  by  a  spirit  of  love.  Ultimately  the 
Officers,  we  have  no  doubt,  would  be,  as  is  the  case  in  all  our  other 
operations,  men  and  women  raised  up  from  the  Colonists  themselves, 
.  and  who  will  consequently,  possess  some  special  qualifications  for 
dealing  with  those  they  have  to  superintend. 

Tne  Colonists  will  be  divided  into  two  classes:  the  1st,  the  class 
which  receives  no  wages  will  consist  of: — 

(a)  The  new  arrivals,  whose  ability,  character,  and  habits 
are  as  yet  unknown. 

(b)  The  less  capable  in  strength,  mental  calibre,  or  other 
capacity. 

(c)  The  indolent,  and  those  whose  conduct  and  character 
appeared  doubtful.  These  would  remain  in  this  class,  until 
sufficiently  improved  for  advancement,  or  are  pronounced  so 
hopeless  as  to  justify  expulsion. 

The  2nd  class  would  have  a  small  extra  allowance,  a  part  of 
which  would  be  given  to  the  workers  for  private  use,  and  a  part 
reserved  for  tuture  contingencies,  the  payment  of  travelling  expenses^ 
etc.  From  this  class  we  should  obtain  our  petty  officers,  send  out 
hired  labourers,  emigrants,  etc.,  etc. 

Such  is  the  Scheme  as  I  have  conceived  it.  Intelligently  applied, 
and  resolutely  persevered  in,  I  cannot  doubt  that  it  will  produce  a 
great  and  salutary  chanee  in  the  condition  of  many  of  the  most 
hopeless  of  our  fellow  countrymen.  Nor  is  it  only  our  fellow 
countrymen  to  whom  it  is  capable  of  application.  In  its  salient 
features,  with  such  alterations  as  are  necessary,  owing  to  differences 
of  climate  and  of  race,  it  is  capable  of  adoption  in  every  city  in  the 
world,  for  it  is  an  attempt  to  restore  to  the  masses  of  humanity  that  are 
crowded  together  In  cities,  the  human  and  natural  elements  of  life 
which  they  possessed  when  they  lived  in  the  smaller  unit  of  the 
village  or  the  market  town.  Of  the  extent  of  the  need  there  can  be 
no  question.  It  is,  perhaps,  greatest  in  London,  where  the  masses  of 
population  are  denser  than  those  of  any  other  city  ;  but  it  exists 
equally  in  the  chi.°:f  centres  of  population  in  the  new  Englands  that 
have  sprung  up  beyond  the  sea,  as  well  as  in  the  larger  cities  of 
Europe.     It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  up  to  the  present  moment  the 


applied, 
aduce  a 
most 
fellow 
salient 
erences 
in  the 
that  are 
of  life 
of  the 
can  be 
asses  of 
exists 
ds  that 
cities  of 
lent  the 


STARVING  IN   MELBOURNE. 


275 


most  eager  welcome  that  has  been  extended  to  this  Scheme  reaches 
us  from  Melbourne,  where  our  officers  have  been  compelled  to  begin 
operations  by  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  and  in  compliance  with 
the  urgent  entreaties  of  the  Government  on  one  side  and  the  leaders 
of  the  working  classes  on  the  other  before  the  plan  had  been 
elaborated,  or  instructions  could  be  sent  out  for  their  guidance. 

It  is  rather  strange  l  .lear  of  distress  reaching  starvation  point  in 
a  city  like  Melbourne,  the  capital  of  a  great  new  country  which 
teems  with  natural  wealth  of  evsry  kind.  But  Melbourne,  too,  has 
its  unemployed,  and  in  no  city  in  the  Empire  have  we  been  more 
successful  in  dealing  with  the  social  problem  than  in  the  capital  of 
Victoria.  The  Australian  papers  for  some  weeks  back  have  been 
filled  with  reports  of  tlic  dealings  of  the  Salvation  Army  with  the 
unemployed  of  Melbourne.  This  was  before  the  great  Strike. 
The  Government  of  Victoria  practically  threw  upon  our  officers  the 
task  o*"  dealing  with  the  unemployed.  The  subject  was  debated  in 
the  II  )use  of  Assembly,  and  at  the  close  of  the  debate  a  subscription 
was  taken  up  by  one  of  those  who  had  been  our  most  strenuous 
opponents,  and  a  sum  of  ^400  was  handed  over  to  our  ollficers  to  dis- 
pense in  keeping  the  starving  from  perishing.  Our  people  have 
found  situations  for  no  fewer  than  1,7  76  persons,  and  are  dispensing 
meals  at  the  rate  of  700  a  day.  The  Government  of  Victoria 
has  long  been  taking  the  lead  in  recognising  the  secular  uses  of  the 
Salvation  Army.  The  following  letter  addressed  by  the  Minister 
of  the  Interior  to  the  Officer  charged  with  the  oversight  of  this 
part  of  our  operations,  indicates  the  estimuiion  in  which  we  are 
held  :— 

Government  ol  Victoria,  Chief  Secretary's  Office, 
Melbourne. 

July  d^h,  1889. 

Superintendent  Salvation  Army  Rescue  Work. 

Sir, — In  compliance  with  your  request  for  a  letter  of  introduction  which  may 
be  of  use  to  you  in  England,  I  have  much  pleasure  in  stating  from  reports 
furnished  by  Officers  of  my  Department,  I  am  convinced  that  the  work  you  have 
been  engaged  on  during  the  past  six  years  has  been  of  material  advantage  to  the 
community.  You  have  rescued  from  crime  some  who,  but  for  the  counsel  and 
assistance  rendered  them,  might  have  been  a  permanent  tax  upon  the  State,  and 
you  have  restrained  from  further  criminal  courses  others  who  had  already  suffered 
legal  punishment  for  their  misdeeds.  It  has  given  me  pleasure  to  obtain  from 
the  Executive  Council  authority  for  you  to  apprehend  children  found  in  Brothels, 
and  to  take  charge  of  such  clnldren  after  formal  committal.     Of  the  great  value 


i! 


ir 


m 


276 


RECAPITULATION. 


I     > 


'■   ( 


I 

«   I 

t 

% 


i 


i'' 


l  i! 

;         i 

1 

«    i: 

ii 

I 

^j,lj 

of  this  branch  of  your  work  tlierc  can  be  no  question.  It  is  evident  that  the 
attendance  of  yourself  and  your  Officers  at  the  police-courts  and  lock-ups  has 
been  attended  with  beneficial  results,  and  your  invitation  to  our  largest  jails  has 
been  highly  appuived  by  the  head  of  tiie  Department.  Generally  speaking,  I 
may  say  that  your  policy  and'  procedure  have  been  commended  by  the  Chief 
Officers  of  the  Government  of  this  Colony,  who  have  observed  your  work. 

I  have  the  honour  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  Servant, 
(Siened)  Alfred  Deakin. 

The  Victorian  Parliatnent  has  voted  an  annual  grant  to  our  funds, 
not  as  a  religious  endowment,  but  in  rocognitio"  of  the  service  which 
we  render  in  the  reclamation  of  criminals,  and  wiiat  may  be  called, 
if  I  may  use  a  word  which  has  been  so  depraved  by  Continental 
abuse,  the  moral  police  of  the  city.  Our  Officer  in  Melbourne  has  an 
official  position  which  opens  to  him  almost  every  State  institution 
and  all  the  haunts  of  vice  where  it  may  be  necessary  for  him  to  make 
his  way  in  the  search  for  girls  that  have  been  decoyed  from  home 
or  who  have  fallen  into  evil  courses. 

It  is  in  Victoria  also  that  a  system  prevails  of  handing  over  first 
offenders  to  the  care  of  the  Salvation  Army  Officers,  placing  them 
in  recognizance  to  come  up  when  called  for  An  Officer  of  the 
Army  attends  at  every  Police  Court,  and  the  Prison  Brigade  is 
always  on  guard  at  the  gaol  doors  when  the  prisoners  are  discharged. 
Our  Officers  also  have  free  access  to  the  prisons,  where  they  can 
conduct  services  and  labour  with  the  inmates  for  their  Salvation. 
As  Victoria  is  probably  the  most  democratic  of  our  colonies, 
and  the  one  in  which  the  working-class  has  supreme 
control,  the  extent  to  which  it  has  by  its  government 
recognised  the  value  of  our  operations  is  sufficient  to 
indicate  that  we  have  nothing  to  fear  from  the  opposition  of  the 
democracy.  In  the  neighbouring  colony  of  New  South  Wales  a  lady 
has  already  given  us  a  farm  of  three  hundred  acres  fully  stocked,  on 
which  to  bc^in  operations  with  a  Farm  Colony,  and  there  seems 
some  prospect  that  the  Scheme  will  get  itself  into  active  shape  at  the 
other  end  of  the  world  before  it  is  set  agoing  in  London.  The  eager 
welcome  which  has  thus  forced  the  initiative  upon  our  Officers  in 
Melbourne  tends  to  encourage  the  expectation  that  the  Scheme  will 
be  regarded  as  no  quack  application,  but  will  be  generally  taken  up 
and  quickly  set  in  operation  all  round  the  world. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


A    PRACTICAL    CONCLUSION. 


!.? 


Throughout  this  book  I  have  more  constantly  used  the  first 
personal  pronoun  than  ever  before  in  anything  I  have  written.  I 
have  done  this  deliberately,  not  from  egotism,  but  in  order  to  make 
it  more  clearly  manifest  that  here  is  a  definite  proposal  made  by  an 
individual  who  is  prepared,  if  the  means  are  furnished  him,  to  carry 
it  out.  At  the  same  time  I  want  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  it 
is  not  in  my  own  strength,  nor  at  my  own  charge,  that  I  purpose  to 
embark  upon  this  great  undertaking.  Unless  God  wills  that  I 
should  work  out  the  idea  of  which  I  believe  He  has  given  me  the 
conception,  nothing  can  come  of  any  attempt  at  its  execution  but 
confusion,  disaster,  and  disappointment.  But  if  it  be  His  will — and 
whether  it  is  or  not,  visible  and  manifest  tokens  will  soon  be  forth- 
coming— who  is  there  that  can  stand  against  it?  Trusting  in  Him 
for  guidance,  encouragement,  and  support,  I  propose  at  once  to  enter 
upon  this  formidable  campaign. 

I  do  not  run  without  being  called.  I  do  not  press  forward  to  fill 
this  breach  without  being  urgently  pushed  from  behind.  Whether 
or  not,  I  am  called  of  God,  as  well  as  by  the  agonising  cries  of 
suffering  men  and  women  and  children,  He  will  make  plain  to  me, 
and  to  us  all ;  for  as  Gideon  looked  for  a  sign  before  he,  at  the 
bidding  of  the  heavenly  messenger,  undertook  the  leading  of  the 
chosen  people  against  the  hosts  of  Midian,  even  so  do  I  look  for  a 
sign.  Gideon's  sign  was  arbitrary.  He  selected  it.  He  dictated 
his  own  terms;  and  out  of  compass- :)n  for  his  halting  faith,  a  sign 
was  given  to  him,  and  that  twice  over.  First,  his  fleece  was  dry 
when  all  the  country  round  was  drenched  with  dew  ;  and,  secondly, 
his  fleece  was  drenched  with  dew  when  all  the  country  round 
was  dry. 


i 


i':l! 


278 


A   PRACTICAL  CONCt  U8I0N. 


If,  f 


I 

r 

*  I 


I   i 


The 


for 


icli  I  ask  to  embolden  me  to  go  forwards  is  single, 
not  double.  It  is  necessary  and  not  arbitrary,  and  it  is  one  which 
the  veriest  sceptic  or  the  moat  cynical  materialist  will  recognise  as 
sufficient.  If  1  am  to  work  out  the  Scheme  I  have  outlined  in  this 
book,  I  must  have  ample  means  for  doing  so.  Ilow  much  would  be 
required  to  establish  this  Plan  of  Campaign  in  all  its  fulness,  over- 
shadowing all  the  land  with  its  branches  laden  with  all  manner  of 
pleasant  fruit,  I  cannot  even  venture  to  form  a  conception.  But  I 
have  a  definite  idea  as  to  how  much  would  be  required  to  set  it  fairly 
in  operation. 

Why  do  I  talk  about  commencing  ?  We  have  already  begun,  and 
that  with  considerable  effect.  Our  hand  has  been  forced  by  circum- 
stances. The  mere  rumour  of  our  undertaking  reaching  the  Anti- 
podes, as  before  described,  called  forth  such  a  demonstration  of 
approval  that  my  Oflicers  there  were  compelled  to  begin  action  with- 
out waiting  orders  from  home.  In  this  country  wc  have  been  working 
on  the  verge  of  the  deadly  morass  for  some  years  gone  by,  and  not 
without  marvellous  effect.  We  have  our  Shelters,  our  Labour  IJureau, 
our  Factory,  our  Inquiry  Officers,  our  Rescue  Monies,  our  Slum  Sisters, 
and  other  kindred  agencies,  all  in  good  going  order.  The  sphere  of 
these  operations  may  be  a  limited  one ;  still,  what  we  l-.ave  done  already 
is  ample  proof  that  when  I  propose  to  do  nmch  mo-e  1  am  not  speak- 
ing without  my  book  ;  and  though  the  sign  I  ask  for  may  not  be 
given,  I  shall  go  struggling  forward  on  the  same  lines  ;  still,  to 
seriously  take  in  hand  the  work  which  I  have  sketched  out — to  esta- 
blish this  triple  Colony,  with  all  its  affiliated  agencies,  I  must  have,  at 
least,  a  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

A  hundred  thousand  pounds  1  That  is  the  dew  on  my  fleece.  It 
is  not  much  considering  the  money  that  is  raised  by  my  poor  people 
for  the  work  of  the  Salvation  Army.  The  proceeds  of  the  Self- 
Denial  Week  alone  last  year  brought  us  in  ;^20,ooo.  This  year  it 
will  not  fall  short  of  ;{J'25,CXX).  If  our  poor  people  can  do  so  much 
out  of  their  poverty,  I  do  not  think  I  am  making  an  extravagant 
demand  when  I  ask  that  out  of  the  millions  of  the  wealth  of  the 
world  I  raise,  as  a  first  instalment,  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  and 
say  that  I  cannot  consider  myself  effectually  called  to  undertake  this 
work  unless  it  is  forthcoming. 

It  is  in  no  spirit  of  dictation  or  arrogance  that  I  ask  the  sign.  It 
is  a  necessity.  Even  Moses  could  not  have  taken  the  Children  of 
Israel  dry-shod  through  the  Red  Sea  unless  the  waves  had  divided. 


THE  SIGN   I  WANT. 


279 


s  single, 
e  which 
gniac  as 
1  in  this 
vould  be 
S9,  ovcr- 
aniicr  of 
But  I 
t  it  fairly 

gun,  and 
J  circum- 
he  Anti- 
ration   of 
ion  with- 
\  working 
,  and  not 
r  IJurcau, 
m  Sisters, 
sphere  of 
le  already 
lot  spcak- 
ly  not  be 
slill,  to 
-to  csta- 
t  have,  at 

ccce.     It 
)or  people 

the  Self- 
lis  year  it 

so  much 
ctravagant 
th  of  the 
unds,  and 
»rtake  this 

;  sign.  It 
;hildren  of 
d  divided. 


That  was  the  sign  which  marked  out  his  duty,  aided  his  faith,  and 
determined  his  action.  The  sign  which  I  seek  is  somewhat  similar. 
Money  is  not  everything.  It  is  not  by  any  means  the  main  thing. 
Midas,  with  all  his  millions,  rould  no  more  do  the  work  than  he 
could  win  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  or  hold  the  Pass  of  Thermopylae. 
But  the  millions  of  Midas  are  capable  of  accomplishing  great  and 
mighty  things,  if  they  be  sent  about  doing  good  under  tlic  direction 
of  Divine  wisdom  and  Christ-like  love. 

How  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven !  It  is  easier  to  make  a  hundred  poor  men  sacrifice  their 
lives  than  it  is  to  induce  one  rich  man  to  sacrifice  his  fortune,  or 
even  a  portion  of  it,  to  a  cause  in  which,  in  his  half-hearted  fashion, 
he  seems  to  believe.  When  I  look  over  the  roll  of  men  and  women 
Who  have  given  up  friends,  parents,  home  prospects,  and  everything 
they  possess  in  order  to  walk  bare-footed  beneath  a  burning  sun  in 
distant  India,  to  live  on  a  handful  of  rice,  and  die  in  the  midst  of  the 
dark  heathen  for  God  and  the  Salvation  Army,  I  sometimes  marvel 
how  it  is  that  they  should  be  so  eager  to  give  up  all,  even  life  itself, 
in  a  cause  which  has  not  power  enough  in  it  to  induce  any  reasonable 
number  of  wealthy  men  to  give  to  it  the  mere  superfluities  and 
luxuries  of  their  existence.  From  those  to  whom  much  is  given  much 
is  expected  ;  but,  alas,  alas,  how  little  i?  realised !  It  is  still  the 
widow  who  casts  her  all  into  the  Lord's  treasury — the  wealthy  deem  it  a 
preposterous  suggestion  when  we  allude  to  the  Lord's  tithe,  and  count  it 
boredom  when  we  ask  only  for  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  tables. 

Those  who  have  followed  me  thus  far  will  decide  for  themselves 
to  what  extent  they  ought  to  help  me  to  carry  out  this  Project,  or 
whether  they  ought  to  help  me  at  all.  I  do  not  think  that  any 
sectarian  differences  or  religious  feelings  whatever  ought  to  be 
imported  into  this  question.  Supposing  you  do  not  like  my  Salva- 
tionisrn,  surely  it  is  better  for  these  miserable,  wretched  crowds  to 
have  food  to  eat,  clothes  to  wear,  and  a  home  in  which  to  lay 
their  weary  bones  after  their  day's  toil  is  done,  even  though  the 
change  is  accompanied  by  some  peculiar  religious  notions  and  prac- 
tices, than  it  would  be  for  them  to  be  hungry,  and  naked,  and 
homeless,  and  possess  no  religion  at  all.  It  must  be  infinitely  pre- 
ferable that  they  should  speak  the  truth,  and  be  virtuous,  industrious, 
and  contented,  even  if  they  do  pray  to  God,  sing  Psalms,  and  go 
about  with  red  jerseys,  fans  tic  Mly,  ^3  you  call  it,  "seeking  for  the 
millennium  " — than  that  they  should  remain  thieves  or  harlots,  with 


280 


A   PRACTICAL   CONCLUSION. 


r 

* 
t 

1 


fi    ' 


no  belief  in  God  at  all,  a  burden  to  the  Municipality,  a  curse  to 
Society,  and  a  danger  to  the  State. 

That  you  do  not  like  the  Salvation  Army,  I  venture  to  say,  is  no 
justification  for  withholding  your  sympath}'  and  practical  co-opera- 
tion in  carrying  out  a  Scheme  which  promises  so  much  blessedness 
to  your  fellow-men.  You  may  not  like  our  government,  our  methods, 
our  faith.  Your  feeling  towards  s  might  perhaps  be  duly  described 
by  an  observation  that  slipped  unvvittint;iy  from  the  tongue  of  a 
somewhat  celebrated  leader  in  the  evangelistic  world  sometime  ago, 
who,  when  asked  what  he  thought  of  the  Salvation  Army,  replied 
that  "  He  did  not  like  it  at  all,  but  he  believed  that  God  Almighty 
did."  Perhaps,  as  an  agency,  we  may  not  be  exactly  of  your  way  of 
thinking,  but  that  is  hardly  the  question.  Look  at  that  dark  ocean, 
full  of  human  wrecks,  writhing  in  anguish  and  despair.  How  to 
rescue  those  unfortunates  is  the  question.  The  particular  character 
of  the  methods  employed,  The  peculiar  uniforms  worn  by  the  life- 
boat crew,  the  noises  made  by  the  rocket  apparatus,  and  the 
mingled  shoutings  of  the  rescued  and  the  rescuers,  may  all  be 
contrary  to  your  taste  and  traditions.  But  all  these  objections  and 
antipathies,  I  submit,  are  as  nothing  compared  with  the  delivering  of 
the  people  out  of  that  dark  sea. 

If  among  m}'  readers  there  be  an}-  who  have  the  least  conception 
that  this  scheme  is  put  forward  by  me  from  any  interested  motives 
by  all  means  let  them  refuse  to  contribute  even  by  a  single  penny  to 
what  would  be,  at  least,  one  of  the  most  shameless  of  shams.  There 
may  be  those  who  arc  able  to  im?.ginc  that  men  who  have  been 
literally  martyred  in  this  cause  have  faced  their  deatli  for  the  sake  of 
the  paltr}  coppers  they  collected  to  keep  body  and  soul  together. 
Such  may  possibly  find  no  difficulty  in  p_M-suading  themselves  that 
this  is  but  another  attempt  to  raise  money  to  augment  that  mythical 
fortune  which  I,  who  never  yet  drew  a  penny  beyond  mere  out-of- 
pocket  expenses  from  the  Salvation  Army  funds,  am  supposed  to  be 
accumulating.  From  all  such  I  ask  only  the  tribute  of  their  abuse, 
assured  that  tlie  worst  they  say  of  me  is  too  mild  to  describe  the  infamy 
of  my  conduct  if  they  are  correct  in  this  interpretation  of  my  motives. 

There  appears  to  me  to  be  only  two  reasons  that  will  justify  any 
man,  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom,  in  refusing  to  co-operate  with  ne 
in  this  Scheme  : — 

I.  That  hr  should  have  an  hoi/rst  and  I'ntclligen  conviction  that  it 
;annot  be  carried  out  with  any  reasonable  measure  of  success;  or, 


curse   to 

ia}',  IS  no 
co-opera- 
essedness 
•  methods, 
described 
igue  of  a 
;time  ago, 
y,  replied 
Almighty 
ur  way  of 
rk  ocean, 
How  to 

character 
,'  the  life- 

and  the 
ay  all  be 
;:tions  and 
ivcring  of 

|nnccption 
1  niolivesi 
penny  to 
There 
avc  been 
c  sake  of 
Itogether. 
Ives  that 
lythical 
out-of- 
:d  to  be 
|r  abuse, 
ini'amy 
liiotives. 
ify  any 
/ith  me 

that  it 


IS  IT  IIVPOSSIBLE? 


281 


2.  That  he  (the  objector)  t's  prepared  ivith  some  other  plan  ivhich  will 
as  effedually  accomplish  the  end  it  contemplates. 

Let  me  consider  the  second  reason  first.  If  it  be  that  you  have 
some  plan  that  promises  more  directly  to  accomplish  the  deliverance 
of  these  multitudes  than  mine,  I  implore  you  at  once  to  bring  it  out. 
Let  it  see  the  light  of  day.  Let  us  not  only  hear  your  theory,  but 
see  the  evidences  which  prove  its  practical  character  and  assure  its 
success.  If  your  plan  will  bear  investigation,  I  shall  then  consider  you 
to  be  relieved  from  the  obligation  to  assist  me — nay,  if  after  full  con- 
sideration of  your  plan  I  find  it  better  than  mine,  I  will  give  up  mine, 
turn  to,  and  help  you  with  all  my  might.  But  if  you  have  nothing  to 
offer,  I  demand  your  help  in  the  name  of  those  whose  cause  I  plead. 

Now,  then,  for  your  first  objection,  which  I  suppose  can  be 
expressed  in  one  word — "  impossible."  This,  if  well  founded,  is 
equally  fatal  to  my  proposals.  But,  in  repl}',  I  may  say — How  do 
you  know  ?  Have  you  inquired  ?  I  will  assume  that  you  have  read 
the  book,  and  duly  considered  it.  Surely  you  would  not  dismiss  so 
important  a  theme  without  some  thought.  And  though  my  arguments 
may  not  have  sufficient  weight  to  carry  conviction,  you  must  admit 
them  to  be  of  sufficient  importance  to  warrant  investigation.  Will 
you  therefore  come  and  see  for  yourself  what  has  been  done  already, 
or,  rather,  what  we  are  doing  to-day.  Failing  this,  will  you  send 
someone  capable  of  judging  on  our  behalf.  I  do  not  care  very  much 
whom  you  send.  It  is  true  the  things  of  the  Spirit  are  spiritually 
discerned,  but  the  things  of  humanity  any  man  can  judge,  whether 
saint  or  sinner,  if  he  only  possess  average  intelligence  and  ordinary 
bowels  of  compassion. 

I  should,  however,  if  I  had  a  choice,  prefer  an  investigator  who 
has  some  practical  knowledge  of  social  economics,  and  much  more 
should  I  be  pleased  if  he  had  spent  some  of  his  own  time  and  a  little 
of  his  own  money  in  trying  to  do  the  work  himself.  After  such 
investigation  I  am  confident  there  could  be  only  one  result. 

There  is  one  more  plea  I  have  to  offer  to  those  who  might  seek  to 
excuse  themselves  from  rendering  any  financial  assistance  to  the 
Scheme.  Is  it  not  ivorthy  at  least  of  being  tried  as  an  experiment  ?  Tens 
of  thousands  of  pounds  are  yearly  spent  in  "trying"  for  minerals, 
boring  for  coals,  sinking  for  water,  and  I  believe  there  are  those 
who  think  it  worth  while,  at  an  expenditure  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  pounds,  to  experiment  in  order  to  test  the  possibility  of 
making   a    tunnel    under    the     sea    between    this    country    and 


r  ■ '  •: 


if  ,  I 
I.  -I 


282 


A   PRACTICAL  CONCLUSION. 


France.  Should  these  adventurers  fail  in  their  varied  opera- 
tions, they  have,  at  least,  the  satisfaction  of  knowing,  though 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  pounds  have  been  expended,  that  they 
have  not  been  wasted,  and  they  will  not  complain ;  because 
they  have  at  least  attempted  the  accomplishment  of  that  which  they 
felt  ought  to  be  done  ;  and  it  must  be  better  to  attempt  a  duty, 
though  we  fail,  than  never  to  attempt  it  at  all.  In  this  book  we  do 
think  we  have  presented  a  sufficient  reason  to  justify  the  expenditure 
of  the  money  and  effort  involved  in  the  making  of  this  experiment. 
And  though  the  effort  should  not  terminate  in  the  grand  success 
which  I  so  confidently  predict,  and  which  we  all  must  so  ardently 
desire,  still  there  is  bound  to  be,  not  only  the  satisfaction  of  having 
attempted  some  sort  of  deliverance  for  these  wretched  people,  but 
certain  results  which  will  amply  repay  every  farthing  expended  in 
the  experiment. 

I  am  now  sixty-one  years  of  age.  The  last  eighteen  months, 
during  which  the  continual  partner  of  all  my  activities  for  now  nearly 
forty  years  has  laid  in  the  arms  of  unspeakable  suffering,  has  added 
more  than  many  many  former  ones,  to  the  exhaustion  of  my  term  ot 
service.  I  feel  already  something  of  the  pressure  which  led  the 
dying  Emperor  of  Germany  to  say,  "  I  have  no  time  to  be  weary." 
If  I  am  to  see  the  accomplishment  in  any  considerable  degree  of 
these  life-long  hopes,  I  must  be  enabled  to  embark  upon  the  enter- 
prise without  delay,  and  with  the  world-wide  burden  constantly  upon 
me  in  connection  with  the  universal  mission  of  our  Army  I  cannot 
be  expected  to  struggle  in  this  matter  alone. 

But  I  trust  that  the  upper  and  middle  classes  are  at  last  being 
awakened  out  of  their  long  slumber  with  regard  to  the  permanent 
improvement  of  the  lot  of  those  who  have  hitherto  been  regarded  as 
being  for  ever  abandoned  and  hopeless.  Shame  indeed  upon  England 
if,  with  the  example  presented  to  us  nowadays  by  the  Emperor 
and  Government  of  Germany,  we  simply  shrug  our  shoulders,  and 
pass  on  again  to  our  business  or  our  pleasure  leaving  these  wretched 
multitudes  in  the  gutters  where  they  have  lain  so  long.  No,  no,  no ; 
time  is  short.  Let  us  arise  in  the  name  of  God  and  humanity,  and 
wipe  away  the  sad  stigma  from  the  British  banner  that  our  horse's 
are  better  treated  than  our  labourers. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  Scheme  contains  many  branches.  It 
is  probable  that  some  of  my  readers  may  not  be  able  to  endorse  the 
plan  as  a  whole,  while  heartily  approving  of  some  of  its  features ; 


d  opera- 
,  though 
hat  they 
because 
[lich  they 
t  a  duty, 
)k  we  do 
penditure 
periment. 
i  success 
I  ardently 
)f  having 
iople,  but 
lended  in 

I  months, 
Dw  nearly 
las  added 
y  term  ot 
1  led  the 
e  weary." 
degree  of 
tie  enter- 
ntly  upon 
I  cannot 

ast  being 
ermanent 
jarded  as 
England 
Emperor 
iers,  and 
wretched 
^,  no,  no ; 
nity,  and 
Lir  hors°s 

ches.  It 
dorse  the 
features ; 


HOW  TO  SUBSCRIBE. 


283 


and  to  the  support  of  what  they  do  not  heartily  approve  they  may  not 
be  willing  to  subscribe.  Where  this  is  so,  we  shall  be  glad  for  them 
to  assist  us  in  carrying  out  those  portions  of  the  undertaking  which 
more  especially  command  their  sympathy  and  commend  themselves 
to  their  judgment.  For  instance,  one  man  may  believe  in  the 
Over-Sea  Colony,  but  feel  no  interest  in  the  Inebriates'  Home  ; 
another,  who  may  not  care  for  emigration,  may  desire  to  furnish  a 
Factory  or  Rescue  Home  ;  a  third  may  wish  to  give  us  an  estate, 
assist  in  the  Food  and  Shelter  work,  or  the  extension  of  the  Slum 
Brig-de.  Now,  although  I  regard  the  Scheme  as  one  and 
indivisible — from  which  you  cannot  take  away  any  portion  without 
impairing  the  prospect  of  the  whole — it  is  quite  practicable  to 
administer  the  money  subscribed  so  that  the  wishes  of  each  donor 
may  be  carried  out.  Subscriptions  may,  therefore,  be  sent  in  for  the 
general  fund  of  the  Social  Scheme,  or  they  can  be  devoted  to  any  of 
the  following  distinct  funds : — 


1.  The  City  Colony. 

2.  The  Farm  Colony. 

3.  The  Colony  Over-Sea. 

4.  The    Household  Salvage 

Brigade. 

5.  The  Rescue  Homes   for 

Fallen  Women. 


6.  Deliverance       for       the 
Drunkard. 

7.  The  Prison  Gate   Brigade. 

8.  The  Poor  Man's  Bank. 

9.  The  Poor  Man's  Lawyer. 
Whitechapel-by-the-Sea. 


10. 


Or  any  other  department  suggested  by  the  foregoing. 

In  making  this  appeal  I  have,  so  far,  addressed  myself  chiefly  to 
those  who  have  money  ;  but  money,  indispensable  as  it  is,  has  never 
been  the  thing  most  needful.  Money  is  the  sinews  of  war  ;  and,  as 
society  is  at  present  constituted,  neither  carnal  nor  spiritual  wars 
can  be  carried  on  without  money.  But  there  is  something  more 
necessary  still.  War  cannot  be  waged  without  soldiers.  A 
Wellington  can  do  far  more  in  a  campaign  than  a  ilothschild. 
More  than  money — a  long,  long  way — I  want  men  ;  and  when  I  say 
men,  I  mean  women  also — men  of  experience,  men  of  brains,  men  of 
heart,  and  men  of  God. 

In  this  great  expedition,  though  I  am  starting  for  territory  which  is 
famihar  enough,  I  am,  in  a  certain  sense,  entering  an  unknown  land. 
My  people  will  be  new  at  it.  We  have  trained  our  soldiers  to  the 
saving  of  souls,  we  have  taught  them  Knee-drill,  we  have  instructed 
them  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  dealing  with  the  consciences  and  hearts 
of  men  ;  and  that  will  ever  continue  the  main  business  of  their  lives. 


284 


A    PRACTICAL   CONOLIICIOM 


§•■   i   'i 

V  '^  > 
I 

(■     t 

I'     1^ 


II,.  j;^ 


.,   ill 
M 

'I   :  I 


To  save  the  soul,  to  regenerate  the  hie,  and  to  inspire  the  spirit  with 
the  undying  love  of  Christ  is  the  work  to  which  all  other  duties  must 
ever  be  strictly  subordinate  in  the  Soldiers  of  the  Salvation  Army. 
But  the  new  sphere  on  which  we  are  entering  will  call  for  faculties 
other  than  those  which  have  hitherto  been  cultivated,  and  for  know- 
ledge of  a  different  character  ;  and  those  who  have  these  gifts,  and 
who  are  possessed  of  this  practical  information,  will  be  sorely 
needed. 

Already  our  world-wide  Salvation  work  engrosses  the  energies  of 
every  Officer  whom  we  command.  With  its  extension  we  have 
the  greatest  difficulty  to  keep  pace ;  and,  when  this  Scheme  has  to 
be  practically  grappled  with,  we  shall  be  in  greater  straits  than  ever. 
True,  it  will  find  employment  for  a  multitude  of  energies  and  talents 
which  are  now  lying  dormant,  but,  nevertheless,  this  extension  will 
tax  our  resources  to  the  very  utmost.  In  view  of  this,  reinforce- 
ments will  be  indispensable.  We  shall  need  the  best  brains,  the 
largest  experience,  and  the  most  undaunted  energy  of  the 
community. 

I  want  Recruits,  but  I  cannot  soften  the  conditions  in  order  to 
attract  men  to  the  Colours.  I  want  no  comrades  on  these  terms, 
but  those  who  know  our  rules  and  are  prepared  to  submit  to  our 
discipline:  who  are  one  with  us  on  the  great  principles  which  deter- 
mine our  action,  and  whose  hearts  are  in  this  great  work  for  the 
amelioration  of  the  hard  lot  of  the  lapsed  and  lost.  These  I  will 
welcome  to  the  service. 

It  may  be  that  you  cannot  deliver  an  open-air  address,  or  conduct 
an  indoor  meeting.  Public  labour  for  souls  has  hitherto  been  outside 
your  practice.  In  the  Lord's  vineyard,  however,  are  many  labourers, 
and  all  are  not  needed  to  do  the  same  thing.  If  you  have  a  practical 
acquaintance  with  any  of  the  varied  operations  of  which  I  have 
spoken  in  this  book  ;  if  you  are  familiar  with  agriculture,  understand 
the  building  trade,  or  have  a  practical  knowledge  of  almost  any  form 
of  manufacture,  there  is  a  place  for  you. 

We  cannot  offer  you  great  pay,  social  position,  or  any  glitter  and 
tinsel  of  man's  glory;  in  fact,  we  can  promise  little  more  than  rations, 
plenty  of  hard  work,  and  probably  no  little  of  worldly  scorn  ;  but  if 
on  the  whole  you  believe  you  can  in  no  other  way  help  your  Lord  so 
well  and  bless  humanity  so  much,  you  will  brave  the  opposition  of 
friends,  abandon  earthly  prospects,  trample  pride  under  foot,  and 
come  out  and  follow  Him  in  this  New  Crusade. 


YOUR  RESPONSIBILITY. 


285 


rit  with 
;s  must 
,  Army, 
acuities 

know- 
fts,  and 

sorely 

irgies  of 
ve  have 
e  has  to 
lan  ever. 
d  talents 
5ion  will 
einforce- 
ains,  the 
of    the 


To  you  who  believe  in  the  remedy  here  proposed,  and  the 
soundness  of  these  plans,  and  have  the  ability  to  assist  me,  I  now 
confidently  appeal  for  practical  evidence  of  the  faith  that  is  in  you. 
The  responsibility  is  no  longer  mine  alone.  It  is  yours  as  much  as 
mine.  It  is  yours  even  more  than  mine  if  you  withhold  the  means  by 
which  I  may  carry  out  the  Scheme.  I  give  what  I  have.  If  you 
give  what  yoi.  have  the  work  will  be  done.  If  it  is  not  done,  and 
the  dark  river  of  wretchedness  rolls  on,  as  wide  and  deep  as  ever, 
the  consequences  will  lie  at  the  door  of  him  who  holds  back. 

I  am  only  one  man  among  my  fellows,  the  same  as  you.  The 
obligation  to  care  for  these  lost  and  perishing  multitudes  does  not 
rest  on  me  any  more  than  it  does  on  you.  To  me  has  been  given 
the  idea,  but  to  you  the  means  by  which  it  may  b6  realised.  The 
Plan  has  now  been  published  to  the  world  ;  it  is  for  you  to  say 
whether  it  is  to  remain  barren,  or  whether  it  is  to  bear  fruit  in 
unnumbered  blessings  to  all  the  children  of  men. 


;  i 


i:i: 


order  to 
se  terms, 
lit  to  our 
dcter- 
for  the 
se  I  will 


;h 


conduct 
n  outside 
abourers, 

practical 
I  have 
iderstand 
any  form 


1 


itter  and 
n  rations, 
;  but  if 
r  Lord  so 
(osition  of 

foot,  and 


M  . 


K  r 


1     • »     ' 

t'K  l( 

■>   *    ' 

f  «  i 

! 


APPENDIX 


I. 

2. 

3- 
4- 

S- 
6. 


The  Salvation  Army-A  Sketch-The  Position  of  the  Forces,  October,  1890 

Circular,  Registration  Forms,  and  Notices  now  issued  by  tlie  Labour  Bureau 

Count  Rumford's  Bavarian  Experience. 

The  Co-operative  Experiment  at  Ralahine. 

Mr.  Carlyle  on  the  Regimentation  of  the  Out-of-Works. 

"  Christianity  and  Civilization^'  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Barry. 


'  I  i 

t     ' 
1 

: .  1 

I 

i 

APPENDIX. 


THE    BALVATION    ARMY. 

THE  POSITION  OF  OUR  FORCES. 
OcTOBEi;,  1800. 


Officers 

Corps 

or 

Societies. 

Out- 
posts. 

or 

Persons 

wholly 

en|{aKed 

in  the 

Work. 

The  United  KlnRdom  . 

.  1.175 

- 

4506 

France       

Switzerland 

•     100 

73 

.•553 

Sweden      

.    103 

41 

328 

United  States      ... 

.    363 

57 

1066 

iinnda      

.    317 

78 

1021 

Australia- 

Victoria  

South  Australia 

New  South  Wales 

■    270 

465 

903 

Tasmania 

Queensland 

New  Zealand       

.      65 

99 

186 

India          j 

Ceylon        ! 

■      80 

51 

419 

Holland     

.      40 

8 

131 

Denmark 

.      33 

— 

87 

Norway      

.      45 

7 

133 

Germany 

.      16 

6 

76 

Belgium     

4 

— 

21 

Finland      

3 

— 

13 

The  Argentine  Itepubli 

3        3 

— 

15 

South   Africa    and     St 

. 

Helena 

.      52 

13 

163 

ToUl  abroad 

.  1499 

S90 

4910 

Grand  total 

.  2874 

896 

9410 

THE  SUPPLY  ("XKADK")  DEPAHTMBNT. 
At  Home.    Abroad. 
Buildings  occupied— At  Home, 

8 ;  Abroad,  33 

Officers      53       ...       15 

BmploydB 207       ...       55 


Total 


207 

300 


THE  PHOPERTV  DEPARTMENT. 

Property  note  Vested  in  the  Army  ;— 
Tlie  United  Kingdom 


France  and  Switzerland 

Sweden         

Norway         

The  United  States... 

Canada 

Australia      

New  Zealand 

India 

Holland        

Denmark      

South  Africa 

Total   ... 


£377,600 

10,000 

13,598 

11,676 

6,601 

98,728 

86,251 

14,798 

6,537 

7,188 

2,340 

10,401 

£644,618 


Value  of  trade  effects,  stock,  machinery,  and 
goods  on  hand,  £130,000  additional. 

SOCIAL  WOKK  OF  THE  ARMY. 

Rescue  homes  (fdllen  women),..       ...       ...  33 

Slum  Posts 33 

Prison  Gate  Brigades     10 

Food  Depats         4 

Shelters  for  the  Destitute       5 

Inebriates' Home 1 

Factory  for  the  "  out  of  work" 1 

Labour  Bureaux 3 

Officers  and  others  managing  those  branches  384 

SALVATION  AND  SOCIAL  REFORM 
LITERATURE. 

At  Cirau- 

home.  Abroad.        lation. 
Weekly  Newspapers...  3    ...    24    ...    31,000,000 
Monthly  Magazines ...  3    ...    13    ...      2.400,000 


Total  ... 


3« 


33,400,000 


y  I 


70 


IV 


APPENDIX. 


(I 


I    i 


Txtal  aiiiiiiul  clri'ulatlou  of  the  above  38,400,000 
Total  auiiual   circulatloD   of   othAr 
publicatloni 4,000,000 


Total  annual  circulation  of 
literature 

Ths  Unitbd  Kingdom— 

"The  War  Cry"   

"The  Young  Soldier" 

"  AH  the  World  " 

"The  Deliverer" 


Army 


37,400,000 


300,000  weekly. 
196,760 

60,000  monthly. 

48,000 


GENERAL  STATEMENTS  AND  STATISTICS. 

Accom-  Annual 

modation.  cost. 
Training  Qarriioni  for  Offl- 

cera  (United  Kingdom)...    38      400     £11,600 
Do.     Do.     (AbroaJ)...    38      790 
Large   Vans    for    Evange- 

lialngthe  Village«(known 

as  Cavalry  Forts)  7 

Homes  of  Rest  for  Officers     34       240        10,000 
Indoor     Meetings,      held 

weekly       38,361 

Open-air    Meetings    held 

weel'"y       (chiefly        In 

England   and    Colonics)        31,467 

Total  Meetings  lield  weekly         49,818 


34 


16 


30 


Number  of  Houses  visited 
weekly  (Great  Britain 
only) 64,000 

Number  of  Countries  and  Coloniet 
(iceupied         

Number  of  Languages  In  which  Litera- 
ture is  issued  

Number  of  Languages  in  which  Salvation 
is  preaclied  by  the  Officers        

Number  of  Local  (Non-Commissloned 
Officers)  and  Bandsmen 

Number  of  Scribes  and  Office  Employ^ 

Average  weekly  reception  of  telegrams, 
600.  and  letters,  5,400,  at  the  London 
Headquarters. 

Sum  raised  annually  from  all  sources  by 

tlie  Army       £750,000 

Balance  Sheets,  duly  audited  by  chartered 

accountants,  are  issued  annually  in  connection 

with  the  International  Headquarters.     See  the 

Annual  Report  of  188i>— "  Apostolic  Warfare." 
Balance  Slieets  are  also  produced  quarterly  at 

•Tery  Corps  in  the  world,  audited  and  signed 


33,069 
471 


by  the  Local  Officers.  DIvIhIouuI  Ilaluiite  Sliii :  * 
issued  monthly  and  audited  by  a  S]i<.'cial  I)e|iiii  I 
ment  at  Headquarters. 

Duly  and  independently  audited  Balance 
Sheets  are  also  issued  annually  from  every 
Territorial  Headquarters. 

THE    AUXILIARY   LEAGUE. 

The  Salvation  Army  International  Auxiliary 
League  is  composed 
1.— Of  persons  wlio,  without  necessarily  en- 
dorsing or  approving  of  every  single  metiiod 
used  by  the  Salvation  Army,  are  s\ifflcientty  In 
sympatliy  with  its  great  work  of  reclainiitig 
drunkards,  rescuing  the  fallen— in  a  word, 
saving  the  lo»t—M  to  give  it  their   PiuvEHt, 

INFLUENCE,   AND  MONEY. 

3.— Of  persons  who,  although  seeing  eye^to 
eye  with  tlie  Army,  yet  are  unable  to  join  it, 
owing  to  belnK  actively  engaged  in  the  work  of 
their  own  denominations,  or  l)y  reason  of  bad 
health  or  otiier  inflniiitles,  wliicli  forbid  their 
taking  any  active  part  in  Christian  work. 
Persons  are  enrolled  either  as  Subscribing  of 
Collecting  Auxiliaries. 

Tlie  League  comprises  persons  of  influence  and 
ition,  members  of  nearly  ail  denominations, 
and  many  ministers. 

PAMPHLETS.— Auxiliaries  will  always  be 
supplied  gratU  with  copies  of  o.ir  Annual  Re- 
port and  Balance  Sheet  and  other  pamphlets 
for  distribution  on  application  ti>  Headquarters. 
Some  of  our  Auxiliaries  have  n  at»^rially  helped 
us  In  this  way  by  distributing  our  litemture  at 
the  seaside  and  elsewhere,  and  by  making 
arrangements  for  the  regular  supply  of  waiting 
rooms,  hydropathics,  and  hotels,  thus  helping 
to  dispel  the  prejudice  nnder  which  many 
persons  unacquainted  with  the  Army  .  e  found 
to  labour. 

"  All  the  World  "  is  posted  free  regularly 
each  month  to  Auxiliaries. 

For  furtliei  information,  and  for  full  particu- 
lars of  the  work  of  The  Salvation  Army,  apply 
personally  or  by  letter  to  QENKKAL  BOOTH, 
or  to  the  Financial  Secretary  iit  International 
Headquarters,  101,  Queen  Victoria  St.,  London, 
B.C.,  to  whom  also  contributions  should  b« 
sent. 

Cheques  and  Postal  Orders  crossed  "City 
Bank." 


inttliiiifi'Shci;^ 
SiMJclul  Deimil- 

idlted    Balance 
lly   from  avtry 


lAOUB. 

lonal  Auxiliary 
ed 

necessarily  en- 
single  method 
re  sufficiently  in 
Ic  of  reclaiming 
en— in  a  word, 
their   PRAVKRM, 

[h  seeing  eye;to 
liable  to  join  it, 
d  in  tlie  work  of 
l)V  reason  of  bad 
ilch  forbid  their 
Clirlatian  work. 
1  Subscribing  of 

sof  influence  and 
I  denominations, 

will   always   be 

our  Annual  Re- 
otlier  pamphlets 

ti>  Headquarters. 
1  atf  riiilly  helped 

our  literature  at 
and  by  making 
iupply  of  waiting 
,elB,  thus  helping 
der  which  many 
B  Army  .   a  found 

;ed  free  regularly 

d  for  full  particu- 
tlon  Army,  apply 
NERAL  BOOTH, 
at  International 
toria  St.,  LondoH, 
itions   should   b« 

rs  crossed    "Oity 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY :   A  SKETCH. 

BY    AN    OFFICER    OF    SEVENTEEN    YEARS'    STANDING. 

IVhat  is  the  Salvation  Army? 

It  is  an  Organisation  existing  to  effect  a  radical  revolution  in  the  spiritual 
condition  of  the  enormous  majority  of  the  people  of  all  lands.  Its  aim  is  to 
produce  a  change  not  only  in  the  opinions,  feelings,  and  principles  of  these  vast 
populations,  but  to  alter  the  whole  course  of  their  lives,  so  that  instead  ot 
spending  their  time  in  frivolity  and  pleasure-seeking,  if  not  in  the  grossest  forms 
of  vice,  they  shall  spend  it  in  the  service  of  their  generation  and  in  the  worship 
of  God.  So  far  it  has  mainly  operated  in  professedly  Christian  countries,  where 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  people  have  ceased,  publicly,  at  any  rate,  to 
worship  Jesus  Christ,  or  to  submit  themselves  in  any  way  to  His  authority.  To 
wiiat  extent  has  the  Army  succeeded  ? 

Its  flag  is  now  flying  in  34  countries  or  colonies,  where,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  nearly  10,000  men  and  women,  whose  lives  are  entirely  given  up  to  the 
work,  it  is  holding  some  49,800  leligious  meetings  every  week,  attended  by 
millions  of  persons,  who  ten  years  ago  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  pray- 
ing. And  these  operations  are  but  the  means  for  further  extension,  as  will  be 
seen,  especially  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  Army  has  its  27  weekly  news- 
papers, of  which  no  less  than  31,000,000  copies  are  sold  in  the  streets,  public- 
houses,  and  popular  resorts  of  the  godless  majority.  From  its,  ranks  it  is 
therefore  certain  that  an  ever-increasing  multitude  of  men  and  women  must 
eventually  be  won. 

That  all  this  has  not  amounted  to  the  creation  ot  a  mere  passing  gust  of 
feeling,  may  best  be  demonstrated  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  the  Army  has 
accumulated  no  less  than  ;^77 5,000  worth  of  property,  pays  rentals  amount- 
ing to  ;^22o,ooo  per  annum  for  its  meeting  places,  and  has  a  total  income  from 
all  souices  of  three-quarters  of   a  million   per  annum. 

Now  consider  from  whence  all  this  has  sprung. 

It  is  only  twenty-five  years  since  the  author  of  this  volume  stood  absolutely 
alone  in  the  East    of  London,  to  endeavour  to    Christianise    its  irreligioas 


1.1 


I  11 


vl 


APPENDIX. 


multitude!!,  without  the  remoit-si  (omtpiion  in  his  own  mind  of  th«!  po»»il)iliiy 
of  any  such  Or^'unisation  hcin^;  created. 

Consider,  moreover,  throuKli  wiiat  opposition  the  Salvation  Army  has  ever 
had  to  ma!<e  its  wa;^. 

In  eatli  enuntry  it  lias  to  face  universal  prejudice,  distrust,  and  contempt,  and 
often  striMi);er  aiitipalliy  still.  This  opposition  has  n<'"*'''ally  f<""iJ  expression 
in  systematic,  Govenunental,  and  Police  restriction,  followed  in  too  many  cases 
by  imprisonment,  and  by  the  condemtiatory  outpourings  of  Bishops,  Clergy, 
I'lessmen  and  others,  naturally  followed  in  too  many  instances  by  the  oaths 
and  curses,  the  blows  and  insults  of  the  populace.  Through  all  this,  in  country 
after  country,  the  Army  makes  its  way  to  the  position  of  tmiversal  respect, 
that  respect,  at  any  rate,  which  is  shown  to  those  who  have  corquered. 

And  of  what  material  has  this  concpiering  host  been  made  ? 

Wherever  the  Army  goes  it  gathers  into  its  meetings,  in  the  first  instance,  a 
crowd  of  the  most  debased,  brutal,  blasphemous  elements  that  can  be  found 
who,  if  permitted,  interrupt  the  services,  and  if  they  see  the  slightest  sign  of 
police  tolerance  for  their  misconduct,  frecjucntly  fall  upon  the  Army  officers  or 
their  property  with  violeiuu;.  Yet  a  couple  of  Officers  face  such  an  audience 
with  the  absolute  certainty  of  recruiting  out  of  it  an  Army  Corps.  Many 
thousands  of  those  who  are  now  most  prominent  in  the  ranks  of  the  Army 
never  knew  what  it  was  to  pray  before  they  attended  its  services ;  and  large 
numbers  of  them  had  settled  into  a  profound  conviction  that  everything 
connected  with  religion  was  utterly  false.  l\  is  out  of  such  material  that  God 
has  constructed  what  is  admitted  to  be  one  ol  the  most  fervid  bodies  of 
believers  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Many  persons  in  looking  at  the  progress  ci  the  Army  have  shown  a  strange 
want  of  discernment  in  talking  and  writing  as  though  all  this  had  been  done  in  a 
most  haphazard  fashion,  or  as  though  an  individual  could  by  the  mere  effort  of 
his  w  ill  produce  such  changes  in  the  lives  of  others  as  he  chose.  The  slightest 
reflection  will  be  sufficient  we  are  sure  to  convince  any  impartial  individual  that 
the  gigantic  results  attained  by  the  Salvation  Army  could  only  be  reached  by 
steady  inialtcring  processes  adapted  to  this  end.  And  what  are  the  processes 
by  which  this  great  Army  lias  been  made  ? 

I.  The  foundation  of  all  the  Army's  success,  looked  at  apart  from  its  divine 
source  of  strength,  is  its  continued  direct  attack  upon  those  whom  it  seeks  to 
bring  under  the  influence  of  the  Gospel.  The  Salvation  Army  Officer,  instead  of 
standing  upon  some  dignified  pedestal,  to  describe  the  fallen  condition  of  his 
iellow  men,  in  the  hope  that  though  far  from  him,  they  may  thus,  by  some 
mysterious  process,  come  to  a  better  life,  goes  down  into  the  street,  and  from 
door  to  door,  and  from  room  to  room,  lays  his  hands  on  those  who  are  spiritually 
sick,  and  leads  them  to  the  Almighty  Healer.   In  its  forms  of  speech  and  writing 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 


vll 


he  poBsibillly 

my  has  ever 

contempt,  and 
id  expression 
)o  many  cases 
ihops,  Clergy, 
by  the  oaths 
his,  in  country 
irersal  respect, 
lereJ. 

irst  instance,  a 
can  be  found 
ightest  sign  of 
rmy  officers  or 
h  an  audience 
Corps.  Many 
s  of  the  Army 
ces ;  and  large 
hat  everything 
terial  that  God 
rvid  bodies  of 

lown  a  strange 

been  done  in  a 

;  mere  effort  of 

The  slightest 

individual  that 

be  reached  by 

the  processes 

from  its  divine 
horn  it  seeks  to 
fficer,  instead  of 
ondition  of  his 

thus,  by  some 
street,  and  from 
lo  are  spiritually 
ech  and  writing 


tlip  .\rmy  constantly  cxliiijiN  this  sainr  chaiiK  ti'ri>>lic.  Iiistrail  of  proponiuling 
r«'lij;i()iis  tiifoiics  or  prrtfiuliii;;  In  ti-acli  a  system  of  tlnMilii)^y,  it  spcal<s  much 
after  the  fashion  of  the  old  l'in|i|i('t  or  Apostle,  to  cadi  individual,  about  his  or 
her  sin  ami  duty,  tiiiis  briii^^iiij,'  to  brar  upon  caiii  lu-art  and  ronsrifiico  the 
light  and  power  I'roin  lieaveii,  liy  which  aloni*  the  world  can  be  transformed. 

2.  And  step  by  step,  aloiijj  wit1i  this  hum.in  roiifact  goes  uinnistakably 
something  that  is  not  human. 

The  puzzlement  and  .self-contradiction  of  most  critics  of  tiie  Army  spring.s 
undoubtedly  from  the  fact  that  they  are  bound  to  account  for  its  success  witliout 
admitting  that  any  superhnman  power  attends  its  ministry,  yi-t  <lay  after  day, 
and  night  after  night,  the  wondertnl  facts  go  on  mnlti|>lying.  The  man  who 
last  night  was  drunk  in  a  London  sinm,  is  to-night  standing  up  for  Christ  on  an 
Army  platform.  The  clever  sce|)tic,  who  a  few  weeks  ago  was  interrupting  the 
speakers  in  Merlin,  and  jionring  contempt  upon  their  claims  to  a  personal 
knowledge  of  the  unseen  Savioiu',  is  to-day  as  tiiorongh  a  believer  as  any  of 
them.  The  poor  girl,  lost  to  shame  and  hope,  who  a  month  ago  was  an  out- 
cast of  Paris,  is  to-day  a  modest  devoted  follower  of  Christ,  working  in  a 
humble  situalion.  To  those  who  admit  we  are  right  in  saying  "this  is 
the  Lord's  doing,"  all  is  simple  enough,  and  our  certainty  that  the  dregs 
of  Society  can  become  its  ornaments  recpiires  no  further  e.\|)lanation. 

3.  All  these  modern  miracles  would,  however,  have  been  comparatively  useless 
but  for  the  Army's  system  of  utilising  the  gifts  and  energy  of  otn-  converts  to  the 
uttermost.  Suppose  that  without  any  claim  to  Divine  power  the  Army  had 
succeeded  in  raising  up  tens  of  thousands  of  persons,  formerly  iniknown  and 
unseen  in  the  conununity,  and  made  them  into  Singers,  .Speakers,  Alnsicians,  and 
Orderlies,  that  would  surely  in  itself  have  l)een  a  remarkable  fact.  Hut  not  only 
have  these  engaged  in  various  labours  forthc  beni-lit  of  the  community.  They  have 
been  tilled  with  a  burning  ambition  to  attain  the  highest  possible  degree  of  useful- 
ness. No  one  can  wonder  that  we  e.xpect  to  seethe  same  process  carried  on  .suc- 
cessfully amongst  our  new  friends  of  the  Casual  Ward  and  the  Shim.  And  if  the 
Army  has  been  able  to  accomplish  all  this  utilisation  of  human  talents  for  the 
highest  purposes,  in  spite  of  an  almost  universally  prevailing  contrary  practice 
amongst  the  Churches,  what  may  not  its  Social  Wing  be  expected  to  do,  with 
the  example  of  the  Army  before  it  ? 

4.  The  maintenance  of  all  this  system  has,  of  course,  been  largely  due  to 
the  uncpialitied  acceptance  of  military  government  and  discipline.  But  for  this, 
we  cannot  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  even  in  our  own  ranks  difficulties  would 
every  day  arise  as  to  the  exaltation  to  front  seats  of  'hose  who  were  formerly 
persecutors  and  injurious.  The  old  feeling  which  would  have  kept  Paul 
suspected,  in  the  background,  after  his  conversion  is,  unfortunately, 
a    part    ol     the    conservative    groundwork     of     human     nature    that    con- 


If  ^^. 


viii 


APPENDIX. 


I  .     : 


!      I 


tinues  to  exist  everywhere,  and  which  has  to  be  overcome  by  rigid  dis- 
cipline in  order  to  secure  that  everywhere  and  always,  the  new  convert  should 
be  made  the  most  of  for  Christ.  But  our  Army  system  is  a  great  indis- 
putable fact,  so  much  so  that  our  enemies  sometimes  reproach  us  with  it.  That 
it  should  be  possible  to  create  an  Army  Organisation,  and  to  secure  faithful 
execution  of  duty  daily  is  indeed  a  wonder,  but  a  wonder  accomplished,  just  as 
completely  amongst  the  Republicans  ot  America  and  France,  as  amongst  the 
militarily  trained  Germans,  or  the  subjects  of  the  British  monarchy.  It  is 
notorious  that  we  can  send  an  officer  from  London,  possessed  of  no  extra- 
ordinarj*  ability,  to  take  command  of  any  corps  in  the  world,  with  a  certainty 
tiiat  he  will  find  soldiers  eager  to  do  his  bidding,  and  without  a  thought 
of  disputing  his  commands,  so  long  as  he  continues  faithful  to  the  orders  and 
regulations  under  which  his  men  are  enlisted. 

5.  But  those  show  a  curious  ignorance  who  set  down  our  successes  to  this 
discipline,  as  though  it  were  something  of  the  prison  order,  although  enforced 
without  any  of  the  power  lying  either  behind  the  prison  wardjr  or  the  Catholic 
priest.  On  the  contrary,  wherever  the  discipline  of  the  Army  has  been 
endangered,  and  its  regular  success  for  a  time  interrupted,  it  has  been  through 
an  attempt  to  enforce  it  without  enough  of  that  joyous,  cheerful  spirit  of  love 
which  is  its  main  spring.  Nobody  can  become  acquainted  with  our  soldi  rs  in 
any  land,  without  being  almost  immediately  struck  with  their  extraordinary 
gladness,  and  this  joy  is  in  itself  one  of  the  most  infectious  and  influential 
elements  of  the  Army's  success.  But  if  this  be  so,  amid  the  comparatively  well 
to  do,  judge  of  what  its  results  are  likely  to  be  amongst  the  poorest  and  most 
wretched  I  To  those  who  have  never  known  bright  g  lys,  the  mere  sight  of  a 
happy  face  is  as  it  were  a  revelation  and  inspiration  in  one. 

6.  But  the  Army's  success  does  not  come  with  magical  rapidity ;  it  depends, 
like  tl,  at  of  all  real  work,  upon  infinite  perseverance. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  perseverance  of  the  Officer  who  has  made  the  saving  ot 
men  his  life  work,  and  whc,  occupied  and  absorbed  witn  this  great  pursuit,  may 
naturally  enough  be  expected  to  remain  faithful,  tiiere  are  multitudes  of  our 
Soldiers  who,  after  a  hard  day's  toil  for  their  daily  bread,  have  but  a  few  hours  ot 
leisure,  but  devote  it  ungrudgingly  to  the  service  of  the  War.  Again  and  again, 
when  Ihe  remains  of  some  Soldier  are  laid  to  rest,  amid  the  almost  universal 
respect  of  a  town,  which  once  knew  him  only  as  an  evil-doer,  we  hear  it  said  that 
this  man,  since  the  date  of  his  conversion,  from  five  to  ten  years  ago,  has  seldom 
been  absent  from  his  post,  and  never  without  good  reason  for  it.  His  duty  may 
have  been  comparatively  insignificant,  "only  a  door-keeper,"  "only  a  JVar  Cty 
seller,"  yet  Sunday  after  Sunday,  evening  after  evening,  he  would  be  present,  no 
matterwho  the  commanding  officer  might  be,  to  do  his  part,  bearing  with  the  un- 
ruly, breathing  hope  into  the  distressed,  and  showing  unwavering  faithfulness  to  all. 


by  rigid    dis- 
jnvert  should 

great  indis- 
with  it.  That 
ecure  faithful 
ilished,  just  as 

amongst  the 
narchy.  It  is 
i  of  no  extra- 
■ith  a  certainty 
3ut  a  thought 
le  orders  and 

ccesses  to  this 
lough  enforced 
)r  the  Cathohc 
rmy  has  been 
>  been  through 
I  spirit  of  love 
our  soldi  -rs  in 
extraordinary 
md  influential 
Daratively  well 
jrest  and  most 
nere  sight  of  a 

y ;  it  depends, 

the  saving  ot 
it  pursuit,  may 
titudes  of  our 
a  few  hours  ot 
ain  and  again, 
most  universal 
ar  it  said  that 
o,  has  seldom 
His  duty  may 
ly  a  JVar  Cry 
DC  present,  no 
g  with  the  un- 
hfulness  to  all. 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY:  A  SKETCH. 


IX 


The  continuance  of  these  processes  of  mercy  depends  largely  nnon  leader- 
ship, and  the  creation  and  maintenance  of  this  leadership  has  been  one  of  the 
marvels  of  the  Movement.  We  have  men  to-day  looked  up  to  and  reverenced 
over  wide  areas  of  country,  arousing  multitudes  to  the  most  devoted  service, 
who  a  few  years  ago  were  champions  of  iniquity,  notorious  in  nearly  every  form 
of  vie,  and  some  of  them  ringleaders  in  violent  opposition  to  the  Army.  We 
have  a  right  to  believe  that  on  the  same  lines  God  is  going  to  raise  up  just 
such  leaders  without  measure  and  without  end. 

Beneath,  behind,  and  pervading  all  the  successes  of  the  Salvation  Army  is  a 
force  against  which  tiie  world  may  sneer,  but  •..ithout  which  the  world's 
miseries  cannot  be  removed,  the  force  of  that  Divine  love  which  breathed  on 
Calvary,  and  which  God  is  able  to  communicate  by  His  spirit  to  human 
hearts  to-day. 

It  is  pitiful  to  see  intelligent  men  :ittempting  to  account,  without  the 
admission  of  this  great  fact,  for  the  self-sacrifice  and  success  of  Salvation 
Officers  and  Soldiers.  If  those  who  wish  to  understand  the  Army  would  only 
take  the  trouble  to  spend  as  much  as  twenty-four  hours  with  its  people, 
how  different  in  almost  every  instance  would  be  the  conclusions  arrived  at. 
Half-an-hour  s'>ent  in  the  rooms  inhabited  by  many  of  our  officers  would 
be  sufficient  to  convince,  even  a  well-to-do  working  man,  that  life  could 
not  be  lived  happily  in  such  circumstances  without  some  superhuman  power, 
which  alike  sustains  and  gladdens  the  soul,  altogether  independently  of  earthly 
surroundings. 

The  Scheme  that  has  been  propounded  in  this  volume  would,  »ve  are  quite 
satisfied,  have  no  chance  of  success  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  we  have  such  a 
vast  supply  of  men  and  women  who,  through  the  love  of  Christ  ruling  in  their 
hearts,  are  prepared  to  look  upon  a  life  of  self-sacrificing  effort  for  the  benefit 
of  the  vilest  and  roughest  as  the  highest  of  privileges.  With  such  a  force  at 
command,  we  dare  to  say  that  the  accomplishment  of  this  stupendous  under- 
taking is  a  foregone  conclusion,  if  the  material  assistance  which  the  Army  does 
not  possess  is  forthcoming. 


\n 


4 

I: 


; 


J.1  ■'■■  \ 


!  I 
^  I 

J  i 

■til 


■ii 


■  I 


THE  SALVATION  ARMY  SOCIAL  REFORM  V/ING. 

Temporary  Headquarters — 

36,  Upper  Thames  Street,  London,  E.C. 

Objects. — Tlip  bringing  together  01  employers  and  workers  for  their  mutual 
advantage.  Making  known  the  wants  of  eacli  to  each  by  providing  a  ready 
method  of  communication. 

Plan  ok  Operation. — The  opening  of  a  Central  Registry  Office,  which  for 
the  present  will  be  located  at  the  above  address,  ar.d  where  registers  will  be 
kept  free  of  charge  wherein  the  wants  of  both  employers  and  workers  will  be 
recorded,  the  registers  being  open  for  consultation  by  all  interested. 

Public  Waiting  Rooms  (for  male.  ant',  female),  to  which  the  unemployed  may 
come  for  the  purpose  of  scanning  the  newspapers,  the  insertion  of  advertise- 
ments for  employment  in  all  newspapers  at  lowest  rates.  V.'riting  tables,  &c., 
provided  for  their  use  to  enable  them  tn  write  ap'^tications  for  situations  or 
work.  The  receiving  of  letters  (replies  to  applicationr  for  employment)  for 
unemployed  workers. 

The  Waiting  Rooms  will  also  act  as  Houses-of-Call,  where  employers  can 
meet  and  enter  int<i  engagements  with  Workers  of  all  kinds,  by  appointment  or 
otherwise,  thus  doing  away  with  the  snare  that  awaits  many  of  the  unemployed, 
who  have  no  place  to  wait  ol!  cr  tl.an  the  Public  House,  which  at  present  is 
almost  the  only  "  liouse-of-rall  "  for  Out-of-Work  men. 

By  making  known  to  tlie  public  generally  the  wants  ot  the  '.memployed  by 
means  of  advertisements,  by  circulars,  and  direct  application  to  employers,  the 
issue  of  labour  statistics  with  information  as  to  the  number  of  unem.ployed  who 
are  an.xious  for  work,  the  various  trades  and  occupations  thry  represent,  &r.,  &c. 

The  opening  of  branches  of  tiie  Labour  Bureau  as  fnst  as  funds  and 
opportunities  permit,  in  all  the  large  towns  and  certvcs  of  industry  thror.ghout 
Great  Britain. 

In  connection  with  the  Labour  Bureau,  ve  propose  to  deal  with  both  skilled 
and  unskilled  workers,  amongst  the  latter  forming  such  agencies  as  "Sandwich" 
Board  Men's  Society,   SIk  e   Black,  Carpet   Beating,  White-washing,  Window 


■Hi       M,         :i} 


:  V/ING. 

!.ONDON,   E.G. 

for  their  mutual 
ividing  a  ready 

'ffice,  which  for 
egisters  will  be 
ivorkers  will  be 
ed. 

employed  may 
n  of  advertise- 
ing  tables,  &c., 
^r  situations  or 
nployment)  for 

employers  can 
ippointinent  or 
e  unemployed, 
h  at  present  is 

nemployed  by 
employers,  the 
employed  v\'ho 
Psent,  &c.,  &c. 
IS  funds  and 
ry  throughout 

li  both  skilled 
!  "  Sandwich  " 
ling,  Window 


I,  il 


THE    LABOUR    BUREAU. 


XI 


Cleaning,  Wood  Chopping,  and  other  Brigades,  all  of  which  will,  with  many 
others,  be  put  into  operation  as  far  as  the  assistance  of  the  public  (in  the  shape 
of  applying  for  workers  ol"  aU  kinds)  will  afford  us  the  opportunity. 

A  Domestic  Servants'  Agency  will  also  be  a  branch  of  the  Bureau,  and  a 
Home  For  Domestic  Ser\ants  out  of  situation  is  also  in  contemplation.  In  this 
and  other  matters  funds  alone  are  required  to  comrtience  operations. 

All  communications,  donations,  etc.,  should  be  add^-essed  as  above,  marked 
"  Labour  Bureau,"  etc 


APPENDIX. 


I 


I 


m 


f  -. 


\i      » 


i    ' 


CENTRAL    LABOUR     BUREAU. 
LOCAL  AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 

Dear  Comrade, —The  enclosed  letter,  which  has  been  sent  to  our  Officers 
throughout  the  Field,  will  explain  the  object  we  have  in  view.  Your  name  has 
been  suggested  to  us  as  one  whose  heart  is  thoroughly  in  sympathy  with  any 
effort  on  behalf  of  poor  suffering  humanity.  We  are  anxious  to  have  in  con- 
nection with  each  of  our  Corps,  and  in  every  locality  throughout  the  Kingdom, 
some  sympathetic,  level-headed  comrade,  acting  as  our  Agent  or  local  Corres- 
pondent, to  whom  we  could  refer  at  all  times  for  reliable  information,  and  who 
would  take  it  as  work  of  love  to  regularly  communicate  useful  information 
respecting  the  social  condition  of  things  generally  in  their  neighbourhood. 

Kindly  reply,  giving  us  your  views  and  feelings  on  the  subject  as  soon  as 
possible,  as  we  are  anxious  to  organise  at  once.  The  first  business  on  hand  is 
for  us  to  get  information  of  those  out  of  work  and  employers  requiring 
workers,  so  that  we  can  place  them  upon  our  registers,  and  make  known  the 
wants  both  of  employers  and  employes. 

We  shall  be  glad  of  a  communication  from  you,  giving  us  some  facts  as  to 
the  condition  of  things  in  your  locality,  or  any  ideas  or  suggestions  you  would 
like  to  give,  calculated  to  help  us  in  connection  with  this  good  work. 

I  may  say  that  the  Social  Wing  not  only  comprehends  the  labour  question, 
but  also  prison  rescue  and  other  branches  of  Salvation  work,  dealing  with 
broken-down  humanity  generally,  so  that  you  can  see  what  a  great  blessing  you 
may  be  to  the  work  of  God  by  co-operat'ng  with  us. 

Believe  me  to  be, 
Yours  affectionately  for  the  Suffering  and  Lost,  etc. 


! 


! 


LOCAL  AGENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 


Xiii 


JENT. 

our  Officers 
ir  name  lias 
thy  with  any 
have  in  cim- 
lie  Kingdom, 
local  Corros- 
ion, and  who 
1  information 
irhood. 
?rt  as  soon  as 
;s  on  hand  is 
ers   reqviiring 
e  known  the 

ie  facts  as  to 
[is  you  would 
rk. 

>our  question, 

dealing  with 

It  blessing  you 


id  Lost,  etc. 


LOCAL  AGENTS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS'  DEPARTMENT. 

PROPOSITION   FOR   LOCAL  AGENT,   CORRESPONDENT,    ETC. 


Name. 


Address 


Occupation. 


If  a  Soldier,  what  Corps' 


If  not  a  Soldier,  what  Denomination  ? . 


If  spoken  to  on  the  subject,  what  reply  they  have  made  ? . 


Signed 
Corps  _ 


Date 


.189 


Kindly  return  this  as  soon  as  possible,  and  we  will  then  place  ourselves  in 
communication  with  the  Comrade  you  propose  for  this  position. 


XIV 


APPENDIX. 


.} 


in 


'    s 


I 
X 

* 

t 
f 

I 


I  I; 


TO    EMPLOYERS   OF   LABOUR. 


M_ 


We  beg  to  bring  to  your  notice  the  fact  that  the  Salvation  Army  has 
opened  at  the  above  address  (in  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing), 
a  Labour  Bureau  for  the  Registration  of  the  wants  of  all  classes  of  Labour,  for 
both  employer  and  employ^  in  London  and  throughout  the  Kingdom,  our 
object  being  to  place  in  communicatio..  with  each  other,  for  mutual  advantage, 
those  who  want  workers  and  those  who  want  work. 

Arrangements  have  been  made  at  the  above  address  for  waiting  rooms,  where 
employers  can  see  unemployed  uen  and  women,  and  where  the  latter  may  have 
accommodation  to  write  letters,  see  the  advertisements  in  the  papers,  &c.,  &c. 

If  you  are  in  want  of  workers  of  any  kind,  will  you  kindly  fill  up  the  enclosed 
form  and  return  it  to  us  ?  We  will  then  have  the  particulars  entered  up,  and 
endeavour  to  have  your  wants  supplied.  All  applications,  I  need  hardly  assure 
you,  will  have  our  best  attention,  whether  they  refer  to  work  of  a  permanent  or 
temporary  character. 

We  shall  also  be  glad,  through  the  information  office  of  Labour  Department, 
tJ  give  you  any  further  information  as  to  our  plans,  &c.,  or  an  Officer  will  wait 
upon  you  to  receive  instructions  for  the  supply  of  workers,  if  requested. 

As  no  charge  will  be  made  for  registration  ot  either  the  wants  of  employers 
or  the  wants  of  the  unemployed,  it  will  be  obvious  that  a  considerable  outlay 
will  be  necessary  to  sustain  these  operations  in  active  usefulness,  and  that 
therefore  financial  help  will  be  greatly  needed. 

We  shall  gratefully  receive  donations,  from  the  smallest  coin  up,  to  help  to  cover 
the  cost  of  working  this  department.  We  think  it  right  to  say  that  only  in 
special  cases  shall  we  feel  at  liberty  to  give  personal  recommendations.  This, 
however,  will  no  doubt  be  understood,  seeing  that  we  shall  have  to  deal  with 
very  large  numbers  who  are  total  strangers  to  us. 

Please  address  all  communications  or  donations  as  above,  marked  "  Central 
Labour  Bureau,"  etq. 


n  Army  has 
form  Wing), 
f  Labour,  for 
;ingdom,  our 
il  advantage, 

rooms,  where 
tter  may  have 
;rs,  &c.,  &c. 
)  the  enclosed 
tered  up,  and 
hardly  assure 
permanent  or 

Department, 
icer  will  wait 
;sted. 

of  employers 
lerable  outlay 
[ess,  and  that 

I  help  to  cover 
that  only  in 
ations.     This, 
!  to  deal  with 

tked  "  Central 


A    CRUSADE    AGAINST    "SWEATING." 


XV 


WE  PROPOSE  TO  ENTER  UPON  A  CRUSADE  AGAINST 
"SWEATING."   WILL  YOU  HELP  US? 

Dear  Sir, — In  connection  with  the  Social  Reform  Wing  a  Central  Labour 
Bureau  has  been  opened,  one  department  of  which  will  deal  especially  with 
that  class  of  labour  termed  "  unskilled,"  from  amongst  whom  are  drawn  Board- 
men,  Messengers,  Bill  Distributors,  Circular  Addressers,  Window 
Cleaners,  White-washers,  Carpet  Beaters,  &c.,  &c. 

It  is  very  important  that  work  given  to  these  workers  and  others  not  enumer- 
ated, should  be  taxed  as  little  as  possible  by  the  Contractor,  or  those  who  act 
between  the  employer  and  the  worker. 

In  all  our  operations  in  this  capacity  we  do  not  propose  to  make  profit  out  of 
those  we  benefit ;  paying  over  the  whole  amount  received,  less  say  one  half- 
penny in  the  shilling,  or  some  such  smell  sum  which  will  go  towards  the 
expense  of  providing  boards  for  "  sandwich "  boardmen,  the  hire  of  barrows, 
purchase  of  necessary  tools,  &c.,  &c. 

We  are  very  anxious  to  help  that  most  needy  class,  the  "boardmen,"  many  of 
whom  are  "  sweated  "  out  of  their  miserable  earnings ;  receiving  often  as  low  as 
one  shilling  for  a  day's  (oil. 

We  appeal  to  all  who  sympathise  with  suffering  humanity, 
especially  Religious  and  Philanthropic  individuals  and  Societies,  to  assist  us  in 
our  efforts,  by  placing  orders  for  the  supply  of  Boardmen,  Messengers,  Bill- 
distributors,  Window-cleaners  and  other  kinds  of  labour  in  our  hands.  Our 
charge  for  "boardmen"  will  be  2s.  2d.,  including  boards,  the  placing  and  proper 
supervision  of  the  men,  &c.  Two  shillings,  at  least,  will  go  direct  to  the  men ; 
most  of  the  hirers  of  boardmen  pay  this,  and  some  even  more,  but  often  not 
more  than  one-half  reaches  the  men. 

We  shall  be  glad  to  forward  you  further  information  of  our  plans,  or  will  send 

a  representative  to  further  explain,  or  to  take  orders,  on  receiving  notice  from 

you  to  that  effect. 

Believe  me  to  be, 

Yours  faithfully,  etc. 


I  ijibkmkb-- 


V. 


xvl 


APPENDIX. 


CENTRAL  LABOUR  BUREAU. 

TO   THE  UNEMPLOYED. — MALE  AND  FEMALE. 
NOTICE. 

A  Free  Registry,  for  all  kinds  of  unemployed  labour,  has  been  opened  at  the 
above  address. 

If  you  want  work,  call  and  make  yourself  and  your  wants  known. 

Enter  your  name  and  address  and  wants  on  the  Registers,  or  fill  up  form 
below,  and  hand  it  in  at  above  address. 

Look  over  the  advertising  pages  of  the  papers  provided.  Tables  with  pens 
and  ink  are  provided  for  you  to  write  for  situations. 

If  you  live  at  a  distance,  fill  up  this  form  giving  all  particulars,  or  references, 
^nd  forward  to  Commissioner  Smith,  care  of  the  Labour  Bureau. 

Name 


Address. 


Kind  of  work  wanted. 
Wages  you  ask. 


opened  at  the 

'n. 

)r  fill  up  form 

>les  with  pens 

or  references, 


THE    LABOUR    BUREAU.                                      xvil 

Name. 

Age. 

During  past  lo  years  have  you 
had  regular  employment  ? 

How  long  for  ? 

What  kind  of  work  ? 

What  work  can  you  do  ? 

What  have  you  worked  at  at 
odd  times  ? 


How  much  did  you  earn  when 
regularly  employed  ? 


How  much  did  you  earn  when 
irregularly  employed  ? 


Are  you  married? 


Is  wife  living? 


How  many  children  and  ages? 


If  you  were  put  on  a  Farm  to 
work  at  anything  you  could 
do,  and  were  supplied  with 
food,  lodging,  and  clothes, 
with  view  to  getting  you 
on  your  feet,  would  you  do 
all  you  could  ? 


1;    !     il 


( 

«      h ' 
if        * 


ih,.  i 

'  ■■  i.  : 

!    i 


HOW    BEGGARY    WAS     ABOLISHED     IN     BAVARIA    BY    COUNT 

RUM  FORD. 

Count  Rumford  was  an  American  officer  who  served  with  considerable 
distinction  in  the  Revolutionary  War  in  that  countr>',  and  afterwards  settled  in 
FIngland.  From  thence  he  went  to  Bavaria,  where  he  was  promoted  to  the 
chief  command  of  its  army,  anc  also  was  energetically  employed  in  the  Civil 
Government.  Bavaria  at  this  time  literally  swarmed  with  beggars,  who  were 
not  only  an  eyesore  and  discredit  to  the  nation,  but  a  positive  injury  to  the 
State.  The  Count  resolved  upon  the  extinction  of  this  miserable  profession, 
and  the  following  extracts  from  his  writings  describe  the  method  by  which  he 
accomplished  it : — 

"  Bavaria,  by  the  neglect  of  the  Government,  and  the  abuse  of  the  kindness 
and  charity  of  its  amiable  people,  had  become  infested  with  beggars,  with  whom 
mingled  vagabonds  and  thieves.  They  were  to  twe  body  politic  what  parasites 
and  vermin  are  to  people  and  dwellings — breeding  by  the  same  lazy  neglect." 

(Page  14.) 

"  In  Bavaria  there  were  laws  which  made  provision  for  the  poor,  but  they 

suffered  them  to  fall  into  neglect.     Beggary  had  become  general." 

-(Page  15.) 

"  In  short,"  says  Count  Rumford,  "  these  detestable  vermin  swarmed  every- 
where ;  and  not  only  their  impudence  and  clamorous  importunity  were  bound- 
less, but  they  had  recourse  to  the  most  diabolical  arts  and  the  most  horrid  crimes 
in  the  prosecution  of  their  infamous  trade.  They  exposed  and  tortured  their 
own  children,  and  those  they  stole  for  the  purpose,  to  extort  contributions  from 
the  charitable."  — (Page  15.) 

"  In  the  large  towns  beggary  was  an  organised  imposture,  with  a  sort  ot 
government  and  police  of  its  own.  Each  beggar  had  his  beat,  with  orderly 
sucressions  and  promotions,  as  with  other  governments.  There  were  battles  to 
^eeide  conflicting  claims,  and  a  good  beat  was  not  unfrequently  a  marriage 
portion  or  a  thumping  legacy."  — (Page  16.) 


JY    COUNT 

considerable 
rds  settled  in 
moted  to  the 
i  in  the  Civil 
irs,  who  were 

injury  to  the 
le  profession, 

by  which  he 

the  kindness 
,  with  whom 
rhat  parasites 
jy  neglect." 
(Page  14.) 

3or,  but  they 

(Page  15.) 

jrmed  every- 
were  bound- 

lorrid  crimes 
ortured  their 
butions  from 

(Page  15.) 

th  a  sort  ot 
with  orderly 
;re  battles  to 
a  marriage 
(Page  16.) 


HOW  BEGGARY  WAS  ABOLISHED  IN  BAVARIA. 


xix 


"  Ho  saw  tliat  it  was  not  enough  to  forbid  beggary  by  law  or  to  jninisii  it  by 
iiii|)iis()iinicnt.  Vhv  beggars  cared  lor  neither.  The  rt'.Tgctic  Yankee  .States- 
man attacked  the  question  as  he  did  problems  in  physical  .science,  IK-  studiod 
beggary  and  beggars.  I  low  would  he  deal  with  one  individual  beggar  ?  Seiul 
liini  for  a  month  to  prison  t(i  beg  again  as  soon  as  he  came  o. it  ?  That  is  no 
remedy.  The  eviilent  course  was  tc^  forbid  him  to  beg,  but  at  the  same  time  to 
give  him  the  opportunity  to  labor ;  to  teach  him  to  work,  to  encourage  him  to 
honest  industry.  And  the  wise  ruler  sets  himself  to  provide  food,  comfort,  and 
woik  for  every  beggar  and  vagabond  in  Bavaria,  and  did  it. ' 

-(Page      ) 

"  Count  Kiimford,  wise  and  just,  sets  himself  to  reform  the  whole  class  o( 
beggars  and  vagabonds,  and  convert  them  into  useful  citizens,  even  those  who 
iiatl  sunk  into  vice  and  crime. 

"  '  What,'  he  asked  himself,  '  is,  after  the  necessaries  of  life,  the  first  condition 
of  comfort  ?'  Cleanliness,  which  animals  and  insects  prize,  which  in  man  affects 
his  moral  character,  and  which  is  akin  to  godliness.  The  idea  that  the  soul  is 
delilcd  and  depraved  by  what  is  unclean  has  long  prevailed  in  all  ages.  Virtue 
never  dwelt  long  with  filth.  Our  bodies  are  at  war  with  everything  that  defiles 
them. 

"  His  first  step,  after  a  thorough  study  and  consideration  of  the  subject,  was 
to  provide  in  Munich,  and  at  all  necessary  points,  large,  airy,  and  even  elegant 
Houses  of  Industry,  and  store  them  with  the  tools  and  materials  of  such  manu- 
factures as  were  most  needed,  and  would  be  most  useful.  Each  house  was 
provided  with  a  large  dining-room  and  a  cooking  apparatus  sufficient  to  furnish 
an  economical  dinner  to  every  Avorker.  Teachers  were  engaged  for  each  kind 
of  labour.  Warmth,  light,  comfort,  neatness,  and  order,  in  and  around  these 
houses,  made  them  attractive.  The  dinner  every  day  was  gratis,  provided  at 
first  by  the  Government,  later  by  the  contiibutions  of  the  citizens.  Bakers 
brought  stale  bread  ;  butchers,  refuse  meat ;  citizens,  their  broken  victuals— all 
rejoicing  in  being  freed  from  the  nuisance  of  beggar}'  The  teachers  of  handi- 
crafts were  provided  by  the  Governm  nt.  And  while  all  this  was  free,  everj'- 
one  was  paid  the  full  value  for  his  labour.  You  shall  not  beg ;  but  here  is  com- 
fort, food,  work,  pay.  There  was  no  ill-usage,  no  harsh  language ;  in  five  years 
not  a  blow  was  given  even  to  a  child  by  his  instructor. 

"  When  the  preparations  for  this  j^'reat  experiment  had  been  silently  completed, 
the  army — the  right  arm  of  the  govei  ling  power,  which  had  been  prepared  for 
the  work  by  its  own  thorough  reformation — was  called  into  action  in  aid  of  the 
police  and  the  civil  magistrates.  Regiments  of  cavalry  were  so  disposed  as  to 
furnish  every  town  with  a  detachment,  with  patrols  on  every  highway,  and  squads 
in  the  villages,  keepir  the  strictest  order  and  discipline,  paying  the  utmost 
deference  to   the  ci^  d   authorities,    and  avoiding  all   offence  to   the  people ; 

U 


xx 


APPENDIX. 


W 


\ 

1 

1 

1 

1 

; 

,! 

i 

1 

-'■ 

I)      ' 


I  I 


hi 


■i  i 


lii' 


:  I 


ii  li 


instructed  vvlicn  tlio  order  was  {jiveii  to  arrest  every  beff^nr,  vagrant,  and  dt-sertrr, 
ami  \mi\fr  tlu-ni  l)fl'iirc'  tlu'  magistrates.  This  military  police  cost  iii)tliinj{  extra 
li>  tile  loimtry  beyoiul  a  lew  cantcmmeiits,  and  this  expense  to  the  whole  country 
was  less  than  £i,,ixx>  a-year. 

"The  1st  of  January,  1790 — New  Year's  Day,  from  time  immemorial  the 
bc^'jf.'irs'  iioliday,  when  they  swarmed  in  the  streets,  expecting  everyone  to 
Kive — the  commissioned  and  non-commissioned  officers  of  three  regiments  of 
inlantry  were  di  -ti  ituited  early  in  the  morning  at  ilirtcrent  points  of  Mimicli  to 
wait  for  orders.  Lieutenant-General  Coimt  Rnmford  assembled  at  his  residence 
ilic  chief  officers  of  the  army  and  principal  magistrates  of  the  city,  and  com- 
mni'icated  to  tliem  his  plans  for  the  campaign.  TIiimi,  dressed  in  the  uniform 
of  his  rank,  with  his  orders  and  decorations  glittering  on  his  breast,  setting  an 
example  to  the  Inniiblest  soldier,  he  led  them  into  the  street,  and  had  scarcely 
reached  it  before  a  beggar  ai)|)roached,  wished  him  a  '  Happy  New  Year,'  and 
waited  for  the  expected  alms.  '  I  went  up  to  him,'  says  Count  Rumtord,  'and 
laying  my  hand  gently  on  his  shoulder,  told  him  that  henceforth  begging  would 
not  be  permitted  in  Munich  ;  that  if  he  was  in  need,  assistance  would  be  given 
liim  ;  and  if  detected  begging  again,  he  would  be  severely  punished.'  He  was 
then  sent  to  the  Town  Hall,  his  name  and  residence  inscribed  upon  the  register, 
anil  lie  was  directed  to  repair  to  the  Military  House  of  Industry  next  morning, 
where  he  would  find  dinner,  work,  and  wages.  Every  officer,  every  magistrate, 
every  soldier,  followed  the  example  set  them  ;  every  beggar  was  arrested,  and  in 
one  day  a  stop  was  put  to  beggary  in  Bavaria.   It  was  banished  out  of  the  kingdom. 

"  And  now  let  ua  see  what  was  the  progress  and  success  of  this  experiment. 
It  seemed  a  risk  to  trust  the  raw  materials  of  industry — wool,  flax,  hemp, 
etc. — to  the  hands  of  common  beggars ;  to  render  a  debauched  and  depraved 
class  orderly  and  useful,  was  an  arduous  enterprise.  Of  course  the  greater 
number  made  bad  work  at  the  beginning.  For  months  they  cost  more  than 
they  came  to.  They  spoiled  more  horns  than  they  made  spoons.  Employed 
tirst  in  the  coarser  and  ruder  manufactures,  they  were  advanced  as  they  im- 
proved, and  were  for  some  time  paid  more  than  they  earned — paid  to  encourage 
good  will,  effort,  and  perseverance.  These  were  worth  any  sum.  The  poor 
people  saw  that  they  were  treated  with  more  than  justice — with  kindness.  It 
was  very  evident  that  it  was  all  for  their  good.  At  first  there  was  confusion, 
but  no  insubordination.  They  were  awkward,  but  not  insensible  to  kindness. 
The  aged,  the  weak,  and  the  children  were  put  to  the  easiest  tasks.  The 
younger  children  were  paid  simply  to  look  on  until  they  begged  to  join  in  the 
work,  which  seemed  to  them  like  play.  Everything  around  them  was 
made  clean,  quiet,  orderly,  and  pleasant.  Living  at  their  own  homes,  they 
came  at  a  fixed  hour  in  the  morning.  They  had  at  noon  a  hot,  nourishing  dinner 
of  soup  and  bread.     Provisions  were  either  contributed  or  bought  wholesale,  and 


HOW  BEGGARY   WAS  ABOLISHED  IN   BAVARIA. 


XXl 


nt,  and  deserter, 
It  iiotliing  extra 
e  whole  ctiiintry 

immemorial  the 

iig  everyone   to 

?e  re>?imeiif8  of 

:s  nf  Munich  to 

at  his  residence 

city,  and  com- 

in  the  uniform 

east,  setting  an 

itl  had  scarcely 

New  Year,'  and 

Kumlord,  '  and 

begging  would 

would  he  given 

shed.'     Me  was 

ion  the  register, 

'  next  morning, 

ery  magistrate, 

irrested,  and  in 

t)f  the  kingdom. 

lis  experiment. 

ol,   flax,  hemp, 

and  depraved 

se  the  greater 

:ost  more  than 

ns.     Employed 

ed  as  they  im- 

d  to  encourage 

im.     The  poor 

1  kindness.     It 

was  confusion, 

e  to  kindness. 

St  tasks.     The 

to  join  in  the 

id    them    was 

homes,  they 

irishing  dinner 

wholesale,  and 


the  economies  of  cookery  were  carried  to  the  last  point  of  perfection.  Count 
Rumford  had  so  planned  the  cooking  apparatus  that  three  women  ctjoked  u 
dinner  fur  one  thousand  persons  at  a  cost,  though  wood  was  used,  ol  4jd.  tor 
luel  ;  and  the  entire  cost  of  the  dinner  for  1, 200  was  only  £l  7s.  6id.,  or  about 
one-third  of  a  penny  for  each  person!  Perfect  order  was  kept -at  work,  at 
meals,  and  everywhere.  As  3oon  us  a  company  took  its  place  at  table,  the  food 
having  been  previously  served,  all  repeated  »  short  prayer.  '  Perhaps,'  says 
Count  Rumford,  '  I  ouf^ht  to  ask  pardon  for  mentioning  so  old-fashioned  a 
custom,  but  I  own  I  am  old-fashioned  enough  myself  to  like  such  things.' 

"  These  poor  people  were  generously  paid  for  tiieir  labour,  but  something  more 
than  cash  payment  was  necessary.  There  was  needed  the  feeling  of  emulation, 
the  desire  to  excel,  the  sense  of  honour,  the  love  of  glory.  Not  only  pay,  but 
rewards,  prizes,  distinctions,  were  giver  to  the  more  deserving.  Peculiar  care 
wi »  taken  with  the  children.  They  were  first  paid  simply  for  being  present, 
idle  lookers-on,  until  they  begged  with  tears  to  be  allowed  to  work.  '  How 
sweet  those  tears  were  to  m  ,'  says  Count  Humford,  'can  easily  be  imagined.' 
Certain  hours  were  spent  by  them  in  a  .  rhool,  for  which  teachers  were 
provided. 

"  The  effect  of  these  measures  was  very  remarkable.  Awkward  as  the  people 
were,  they  were  not  stupid,  and  learned  to  work  with  unexpected  rapidity.  More 
wonderful  was  the  change  in  their  manners,  appearances  and  the  very  expres- 
sion of  their  countenances.  Cheerfulness  and  gratitude  replaced  the  gloom  of 
misery  and  the  sullenness  of  despair.  Their  hearts  were  softened  ;  they  were 
most  grateful  to  their  benefactoi  for  themselves,  still  more  for  their  children. 
These  wor'..  d  with  their  parents,  forming  little  industrial  groups,  whose  affec- 
tion excited  the  interest  of  every  visitor.  Parents  were  happy  in  the  industry 
and  growing  intelligence  of  their  children,  and  the  children  were  proud  of  their 
own  achievements. 

"  The  great  experiment  was  a  complete  and  triumphant  success.  When  Count 
Rumford  wrote  his  account  of  it,  it  had  been  five  years  in  operation  ;  it  was, 
financially,  a  paying  speculation,  and  had  not  only  banished  beggary,  but  had 
wrought  an  entire  change  in  the  manners,  habits,  and  very  appearance  of  the 
most  abandoned  and  degraded  people  in  the  kingdom." 

-  ("Count  Rumford,"  pages  18-24.) 

"  Are  the  poor  ungrateful  ?  Count  Rumford  did  not  find  them  so.  When, 
from  the  exhaustion  of  his  great  labours,  he  fell  dangerously  ill,  these  poor 
people  whom  he  had  rescued  from  lives  of  shame  and  misery,  spontaneously 
assembled,  formed  a  procession,  and  went  in  a  body  to  the  Cathedral  to  offer 
their  united  prayers  for  his  recovery.  When  he  was  absent  in  Italy,  and 
supposed  to  be  dangerously  ill  in  Naples,  they  set  apart  a  certain  time  eveiy 


XXil 


i    I' 


m 


APPENDIX. 


day,  after  woik  hours,  to  pray  for  their  ben«?factor.  After  an  absence  of  fifteen 
months,  Count  Rumford  returned  with  renewed  health  to  Munich — a  city  wheie 
there  was  work  ''or  everyone,  and  not  one  person  whose  wants  were  not  provided 
foi.  When  he  visited  the  military  workhouse,  the  reception  given  him  by  these 
poor  people  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  all  present.  A  few  days  after  he 
enteilained  eighteen  hundred  of  them  in  the  English  garden  -  a  festival  at  which 
30,000  of  the  citizens  of  Munich  assisted." 

("  Count  Rumford,  pages  24-25.) 


,1 
» 

« 
t 

•»  : 
«  ■ 


I 


;nce  of  fifteen 
— a  city  wheie 
e  not  provided 
1  him  by  tiiese 
days  after  he 
stival  at  which 

lages  24-25.) 


THE  CO-OPERATIVE  EXPERIMENT  AT  RALAHINE, 

"  The  outrages  of  the  '  Wliitefeet,  '  Lady  Clare  Boys,'  and  '  Terry  Alts ' 
(labourers)  far  exceeded  those  of  recent  occurrence ;  yet  no  remedy  but  force 
was  attempted,  except  by  one  Irish  landlord,  Mr.  John  Scott  Vandeleur,  of 
Raiahine,  county  Clare,  late  high  sheriff  of  his  county.  Early  in  1831  his  family 
had  been  obliged  to  take  flight,  in  charge  of  an  armed  police  force,  and  his 
steward  had  been  murdered  by  one  of  the  labourers,  having  been  chosen  by  lot 
at  a  meeting  held  to  decide  who  should  perpetrate  the  deed.  Mr.  Vandeleur 
came  to  England  to  seek  someone  who  would  aid  him  in  organising  the 
labourers  into  an  agricultural  and  manufacturing  association,  to  be  conducted 
on  co-operative  principles,  and  he  was  recommended  to  Mr.  Craig,  who,  at  great 
sacrifice  of  his  position  and  prospects,  consented  to  give  his  ser\-ices. 

"  No  one  but  a  man  of  rare  zeal  and  courage  would  have  attempted  so 
apparently  hopeless  a  task  as  that  which  Mr.  Craig  undertook.  Both  the  men 
whom  he  had  to  manage — the  Terry  Alts  who  had  murdered  their  master's 
steward — and  their  surroundings  were  as  hi  ile  calculated  to  give  confidence  in 
the  success  of  the  scheme  as  they  well  could  be.  The  men  spoke  generally  the 
Irish  language,  which  Mr.  Craig  did  not  understand,  and  they  looked  upon  him 
with  suspicion  as  one  sent  to  worm  out  of  them  the  secret  of  tht  murder 
recently  committed.  He  was  consequently  treated  with  coldness,  and  worse 
than  that.  On  one  occasion  the  outline  of  his  grave  w.  s  cut  out  of  the  pasture 
near  his  dwelling,  and  he  Carried  his  life  in  his  hand.  A-ter  a  time,  however,  he 
won  the  confidence  of  these  men,  rendered  savage  as  they  had  been  by 
ill-treatment. 

"  The  farm  was  let  by  Mr.  Vandeleur  at  a  fixed  ent,  to  be  paid  in  fixed 
quantities  of  farm  produce,  which,  at  the  prices  ruling  in  1830-31,  would  bring 
in  ;^900,  which  included  interest  on  buildings,  rnrachinery,  and  live  stock 
provided  by  Mr.  Vandeleur.  The  rent  alone  was  ;£7oo.  As  the  farm  consisted 
of  618  acres,  only  268  of  which  were  under  tillage,  this  rent  was  a  very  high 
one — a  fact  which  was  acknowledged  by  the  landlord.  All  profits  after  payment 
of  rent  and  interest  belonged  to  the  members,  divisible  at  the  end  of  the  year  if 
desired.  They  started  a  co-operative  store  to  supply  themselves  with  food  and 
clothing,  and  the  estate  was  managed  by  a  committee  of  the  members,  who  paid 
every  male  and  female  member  wages  for  their  labour  in  labour  notes  which 
were  exchangeabt*  at  the  store  for  goods  or  cash.  Intoxicating  drink  or  tobacco 
were  prohibit<!4.     The  coipmi{tpe  ea>ch  day  allotted  each  man  his  duties.     The 


xxiv 


APPENDIX. 


'I         !'  :■ 


members  worked  the  land  partly  as  kitchen  garden  and  fruit  orchards,  and 
partly  as  dairy  farm,  stall  feeding  being  encouraged  and  root  crops  grown  for 
tiie  cattle.  Pigs,  poultry,  &c.,  were  reared.  Wages  at  the  time  were  only  8d 
per  day  for  men  and  5d.  for  women,  and  the  members  were  paid  at  these  rates. 
Vet,  as  they  lived  chiefly  on  potatoes  and  milk  produced  on  the  farm,  which,  as 
well  as  mutton  and  pork,  were  sold  to  them  at  extremely  low  prices,  they  saved 
money  or  rather  notes.  Their  health  and  appearance  quickly  improved,  so  much 
so  that,  with  disease  raging  round  them,  there  was  no  case  of  death  or  serious 
illness  among  them  while  the  experiment  lasted.  The  single  men  lived  together 
in  a  large  building,  and  the  families  in  cottages.  Assisted  by  Mrs.  Craig,  the 
secretary  carried  out  the  most  enlightened  system  of  education  for  the  young, 
those  old  enough  being  alternately  employed  on  the  farm  and  in  the  school. 
Sanitary  arrangements  were  in  a  high  state  of  perfection,  and  physical  and 
moral  training  were  most  carefully  attended  to.  In  respect  of  these  and  other 
social  arrangements,  Mr.  Craig  was  a  man  much  before  his  time,  and  he  has 
since  made  himself  a  name  in  connection  with  their  application  in  various  parts 
of  the  country. 

"The  'New  System,  as  the  Ralahine  experiment  was  called,  though  at  first 
regarded  with  suspicion  and  derision,  quickly  gained  favour  in  the  district,  so 
that  before  long  outsiders  were  extremely  anxious  to  become  members  of  the 
association.  In  January,  1832,  the  community  consisted  of  fifty  adults  and 
seventeen  children.  The  total  number  afterwards  increased  to  eighty-one. 
Everything  was  prosperous,  and  the  members  of  the  association  were 
not  only  benefited  themselves,  but  their  improvement  exercised  a 
beneficent  influence  upon  the  people  in  their  neighbourhood.  It  was  hoped 
that  other  landlords  would  imitate  the  excellent  example  of  Mr.  Vandeleur, 
especially  as  liis  experiment  was  one  profitable  to  himself,  as  well  as  calculated 
to  produce  peace  and  contentment  in  disturbed  Ireland.  Just  when  these  hopes 
were  raised  to  their  higliest  degree  of  expectancy,  the  happy  community  at 
Ralahine  was  broken  up  through  the  ruin  and  flight  of  Mr.  Vandeleur,  who  had 
lost  his  property  by  gambling.  Everything  was  sold  off,  and  the  labour  notes 
saved  by  the  members  would  have  been  worthless  had  not  Mr.  Craig,  with  noble 
self-sacrifice,  redeemed  them  out  of  his  own  pocket. 

"  We  have  given  but  a  very  scanty  description  of  the  system  pursued  at 
Ralahine.  The  arrangements  were  in  most  respects  admirable,  and  reflected 
the  greatest  credit  upon  Mr.  Craig  as  an  organiser  and  au.ninistrator.  To  his 
wisdom,  energy,  tact,  and  forbearance  the  success  of  his  experiment  was  in 
great  measure  due,  and  it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  he  was  not  in  a 
position  to  repeat  the  attempt  under  more  fav  urable  ciri."!mstances." 

("  History  of  a  Co-operative  Farm.") 


orchards,  and 
ops  grown  for 

were  only  8d 
at  these  rates, 
arm,  which,  as 
;es,  they  saved 
roved,  so  much 
eath  or  serious 
Uved  togetlier 
Vlrs.  Craig,  the 
for  the  young, 
in  the  school. 

physical  and 
lese  and  other 
e,  and  he  has 
1  various  parts 

though  at  first 
the  district,  so 
lembers  of  the 
:ty  adults  and 
to  eighty-one. 
ociation  were 
exercised  a 
It  was  hoped 
Ir.  Vandeleur, 
1  as  calculated 
n  these  hopes 
community  at 
ileur,  who  had 
e  labour  notes 
lig,  with  noble 

n  pursued  at 
and  reflected 
rator.  To  his 
iment  was  in 
was  not  in  a 
es." 
ive  Farm.") 


CARLYLE    ON    THE     SOCIAL    OBLIGATIONS    OF    THE    NATION 

FORTY-FIVE    YEARS    AGO. 

Inserted  at  the  earnest  request  of  a  friend,  who  was  struck  by  the  coincidence  of 
some  ideas,  similar  to  those  of  this  volume,  set  forth  so  long  ago,  but  as  yet 
remaining  unrealised,  and  which  I  had  never  read. 

EXTRACTS    FROM     "  PAST    AND    PRESENT." 

"  A  Prime  Minister,  even  here  in  England,  who  shall  dare  believe  the 
heavenly  omens,  and  address  himself  like  a  man  and  hero  to  the  great  dumb- 
struggling  heart  of  England,  and  speak  out  for  it,  and  act  out  for  it,  the  Gods- 
Justice  it  is  writhing  to  get  uttered  and  perishing  for  want  of — yes,  he  too  will 
see  awaken  round  him,  in  passionate,  burning,  all-defiant  loyalty,  the  heart  of 
England,  and  such  a  '  support '  as  no  Division-List  or  Parliamentarj'  Majority 
was  ever  yet  known  to  yield  a  man !  Here  as  there,  now  as  then,  he  who  can 
and  dare  trust  the  heavenly  hiimensities,  all  earthly  Localities  are  subject  to 
him.  We  will  pray  for  such  a  man  and  First-Lord ; — yes,  and  far  better,  we 
will  strive  and  incessantly  make  ready,  each  of  us,  to  be  worthy  to  ser\'e  and 
second  such  a  First-Lord !  We  shall  then  be  as  good  as  sure  of  his  arriving ; 
sure  of  many  things,  let  him  arrive  or  not. 

"  Who  can  despair  of  Governments  that  passes  a  Soldier's  Guard-house,  or 
meets  a  red-coated  man  on  the  streets?  That  a  body  of  men  could  be  got 
together  to  kill  other  men  when  you  bade  them  :  this,  a  priori,  does  it  not  seem 
one  of  the  impossiblest  things  ?  Yet  look,  behold  it :  in  the  stolidest  of 
Do-nothing  Governments,  that  impossibility  is  a  thing  done." 

— (Carlyle,  "  Past  and  Present,"  page  223.) 

"Strange,  interesting,  and  yet  most  mournful  to  reflect  on.  Was  this,  then, 
of  all  the  things  ma  ikind  had  some  talent  for.  the  one  thing  important  to  learn 
well,  and  bring  fj  perfection  ;  this  of  successfully  killing  one  another?  Truly, 
you  hcive  learned  it  well,  and  carried  the  business  to  a  high  perfection.  It  is 
incalculable  what,  by  arranging,  commanding,  and  regimenting  you  can  make  of 
men.  These  thousand  straight-standing,  firm-set  individuals,  v  '10  shoulder 
arms,  who  march,  wheel,  advance,  retreat ;  and  are,  for  your  behoc.  magazint- 
charged  with  tiery  death,  in  the  most  perfect  condition  of  potential  activity. 
Few  months  ago,  till  the  persuasive  sergeant  came,  what  were  they  ?  Multiform 
ragged  losels,  runaway  apprentices,  starved  weavers,  tiiievish  valets  ;  an  entirely 
broken  population,  fast  tending  towards  the  treadmill.  But  the  persuasive 
sergeant  came*  bv  tao  of  drum  enlisted- or  formed  lists  of  them  took  b.<!:irtilv< 


r^ 


xxvi 


APPENDIX. 


^^1 


I 

f 

« 
> 

t 

» 


to  drilling  them ;  and  he  and  you  have  made  them  this  !  Most  potent 
effectual  for  all  work  whatsoever,  is  wise  planning,  firm,  combining,  and 
commanding  among  men.  Let  no  man  despair  of  Governments  who  look  on 
these  two  sentries  at  the  Horse  Guards  and  our  United  Service  clubs.  I  could 
conceive  an  Emigration  Service,  a  Teaching  Ser\'ice,  considerable  varieties  of 
United  and  Separate  Services,  of  the  due  thousands  strong,  all  effective  as  this 
Fighting  Service  is  ;  all  doing  their  work  like  it — which  work,  much  more  than 
lighting,  is  henceforth  the  necessity  of  these  new  ages  we  are  got  into!  Much 
lies  among  us,  convulsively,  nigh  desperately,  struggling  to  be  bom." 

— ("  Past  and  Present,"  page  224.) 

"  It  was  well,  all  this,  we  know  ;  and  yet  it  was  not  well.  Forty  soldiers,  I  am 
told,  will  disperse  the  largest  Spitalfields  mob  ;  forty  to  ten  thousand,  that  is  the 
proportion  between  drilled  and  undrilled.  Much  there  is  which  cannot  yet  be 
organised  in  this  world,  but  somewhat  also  which  can — somewhat  also  which 
must.  When  one  thinks,  for  example,  what  books  are  become  and  becoming 
for  us,  what  operative  Lancashires  are  become  ;  what  a  Fourth  Estate  and 
innumerable  virtualities  not  yet  got  to  be  actualities  are  become  and  becoming, 
one  sees  organisms  enough  in  the  dim  huge  future,  and  '  United  Services ' 
quite  other  than  the  redcoat  one  ;  and  much,  even  in  these  years,  struggling  to 
be  born  !  "  — ("  Past  and  rresent,"  page  226. 

"  An  effective  '  Teaching  Service,'  I  do  consider  that  there  must  be ;  some 
education  secretarj',  captain-general  of  teachers,  who  will  actually  contrive  to 
get  us  taught.  Then  again,  why  should  there  not  be  an  '  Emigration  Service,' 
and  secretary  with  adjuncts,  with  funds,  forces,  idle  navy  shijjs,  and  ever- 
increasing  apparatus,  in  fine  an  effectii'e  system  of  emigration,  so  that  at  length 
before  our  twenty  years  of  respite  ended,  evcrj'  honest  willing  workman  who 
found  England  too  strait,  and  the  'organisation  of  labour'  not  yet  sufficiently 
advanced,  might  find  likewise  a  bridge  built  to  carry  him  into  new  western 
lands,  there  to  'organise'  with  more  elbow  room  some  labour  for  himself? 
There  to  be  a  real  blessing,  raising  new  corn  for  us,  purchasing  new  webs  and 
hatchets  from  us  ;  leaving  us  at  least  in  peace  ;  instead  of  staying  here  to  be  a 
physical-force  Chartist,  unblessed  and  no  blessing !  Is  it  not  scandalous  to  con- 
sider that  a  Prime  Minister  could  raise  within  the  year,  as  I  have  seen  it  done,  a 
hundred  and  twenty  millions  sterling  to  shoot  the  French  ;  and  we  are  stopped 
short  for  want  of  the  JHuulredth  part  of  that  to  keep  the  English  living?  The 
bodies  of  the  English  living,  and  the  souls  of  the  English  living,  these  two 
'  Services,'  an  Education  Service  and  an  Emigration  Service,  these  with  others, 
will  have  actually  to  be  Organised. 

"  A  free  bridge  for  emigrants !  Why,  we  should  then  be  on  a  par  with  America 
itself,  the  most  favoured  of  all  lands  that  have  no  government ;  and  we  should 
have,  besides,  so  many    traditions  and  mementos    of  priceless  things  which 


Most    potent 
ombiniiif^,    ami 
i  who   look   on 
clubs.     1  coiikl 
\)\c  varieties  of 
effective  as  tiiis 
luch  more  tlian 
rot  into !     Much 
orft." 
It,"  page  224.) 

ty  soldiers,  I  am 
isand,  that  is  the 
h  cannot  yet  be 
wliat  also  which 
e  and  becoming 
lurth  Estate  and 
le  and  becoming, 
L'nitcd   Services' 
■ars,  struggling  to 
ent,"  page  226. 

must  be;  some 
ually  contrive  to 
igration  Service,' 
ships,    and   ever- 
so  that  at  length 
ig  workman  who 
It  yet  sufficiently 
nto  new  western 
)our  for  himself? 
g  new  webs  and 
lying  here  to  be  a 
randaUnis  to  con- 
,ve  seen  it  done,  a 
d  we  are  stopped 
ish  living?    The 
living,  these  two 
these  with  others, 

par  with  America 
it ;  and  we  should 
ess  things  which 


CARLYLE   ON   THE  SOCIAL  OBLIGATIONS. 


XXVII 


America  has  cast  away.     We  could  proceed  deliberately  to  'organise  labour  not 

doomed   to   perish    unless  we  effected  it  within   year  and  day  every  willinc 

worker  that  proved  superfluous,  finding  a  bridge  ready  for  him.     This  verily  will 

have    to    be    done ;  the    time    is    big    with    this.     Our    little    Isle  is  grown 

too  narrow  for  us  ;  but  the  world  is  wide  enough  yet  for  another  six  thousand 

years.     England's  sure  markets  will  be  among  new  colonies  of  Englishmen  in  all 

(|uarters  of  the  Globe.     All  men  trade  with  all  men  when  mutually  convenient, 

and  are  even  bound  to  do  it  by  the  Maker  of  Men.     Our  friends  of  China,  who 

guiltily  refused  to  trade  in  these  circumstances — had  we  not  to  argue  with  them, 

in  cainion-shot  at  last,  and  convince  them  that  they  ouglit  to  trade  ?     '  Hostile 

tariffs '  will  arise  to  shut  us  out,  and  then,  again,  will   fall,  to  let  us  in ;  but  the 

sons  of  England — sjjcakers  of  the  English  language,  were  it  nothing  more — will 

in  -ill  times  have  the  ineradicable  predisposition  to  trade  with  England.    Mycale 

was  the  Pan-Iofiian — rendezvous  of  all  the  tribes  of  Ion — for  old  Greece  ;  why 

should  not  Lor  don  long  continue  the  All  Saxon  Ilotnc,  rendezvous  of  all  the 

'  Children  of  the  Harz-Rock,'  arriving,  in  select  sar  pies,   from  the  Antipodes 

and  elsewhere,  by  steam  and  otherwise,  to  the  '  season  '  here  ?    What  a  future  ! 

Wide  as  the  world,  if  we  have  the  heart  and  heroism  for  it,  which,  by  Heavens 

blessing,  we  shall. 

"  Keep  not  standing  fixed  and  rooted, 

Briskly  venture,  briskly  roam  ; 
Head  and  hand,  where'er  thou  foot  it, 

And  stout  heart  are  still  at  home. 
In  what  land  the  sun  does  visit 

Brisk  are  we,  what  e'er  betide  ; 
To  give  space  lor  wandering  is  it 

That  the  world  was  made  so  wide. 

"Fourteen  hundred  years  ago  it  was  a  considerable  '  Emigration  Ser\'ice,'  never 
doubt  it,  by  much  enlistment,  discussion,  and  apparatus  that  we  ourselves 
arrived  in  this  remarkable  island,  and  got  into  our  present  difficulties  among 
others.  "  — ("  Past  and  Present,"  pagei  228-230.) 

"  The  main  substance  of  this  immense  problem  of  organising  labour,  and  first 
of  all  of  managing  the  working  classes,  will,  it  is  verj'  clear,  have  to  be  solved 
by  those  who  stand  practically  iu  the  middle  of  it,  by  those  who  themselves 
work  and  preside  over  work.  Of  all  that  can  be  enacted  by  any  Paiiiament  in 
regard  to  it,  the  germs  must  already  I'.e  potentially  extant  in  those  two  classes 
who  are  to  obey  such  enactment.  A  human  chaos  in  which  there  is  no  light, 
you  vainly  attempt  to  irradiate  by  light  shed  on  it ;  order  never  can  arise  there." 

— ("  Past  and  Present,"  pages  231-32.) 

"  Look  around  you.  Your  world-hosts  are  all  in  mutiny,  in  confusion,  destitu- 
tion ;  on  the  eve  of  fiery  wreck  and  madness.  They  will  not  uarch  farther  for 
you,  on  the  sixpence  a  day  and  supi)ly-and-demand  principle :  they  will  not ;  nor 
ought  they  ;  nor  can  they.     Ye  shall  reJutt  them  to  order  ;  bef  >n  reducing  them 


jJfiMJpiijiijniaiiiip; 


xxviii 


APPENDIX. 


r  ;:^' 


? 


r 

i 

I 


to  order,  to  just  subordination ;  noble  loyalty  in  return  for  noble  guidance. 
Their  souls  are  driven  nigli  mad  ;  let  yours  be  sane  and  never  saner.  Not  as  a 
bewildered  bewildering  mob,  but  as  a  firm  regimented  mass,  with  real  captains 
over  them,  will  these  men  march  any  more.  All  human  interests,  combined 
human  endeavours,  and  social  growth  in  this  world  have,  at  a  certain  stage  of 
their  development,  required  organising ;  and  work,  the  greatest  of  human 
interests,  does  not  require  it. 

"  God  knows  the  task  will  be  hard,  but  no  noble  task  was  ever  easy.  This  task 
will  wear  away  your  lives  and  the  lives  of  your  sons  and  grandsons  ;  but  for 
what  purpose,  if  not  for  tasks  like  this,  were  lives  given  to  men  ?  Ye  shall 
cease  to  count  your  thousand-pound  scalps  ;  the  noble  of  you  shall  cease  !  Nay, 
the  very  scalps,  as  I  say,  will  not  long  be  left,  if  you  count  only  these.  Ye  shall 
cease  wholly  to  be  barbarous  vulturous  Choctaws,  and  become  noble  European 
nineteenth-century  men.  Ye  shall  know  that  Mammon,  in  never  such  gi;js  and 
flunky  '  respectabilities '  in  not  the  alone  God  ;  that  of  himself  he  is  but  a 
devil  and  even  a  brute-god. 

"  Difticult  ?  Yes,  it  will  be  difficult.  The  short-fibre  cotton  ;  that,  too,  was 
difficult.  The  waste-cotton  shrub,  long  useless,  disobedient  as  the  thistle  by 
the  kvayside ;  have  ye  not  conc(uered  it,  made  it  into  beautiful  bandana  webs, 
while  woven  shirts  for  men,  bright  tinted  air  garments  wherein  flit  goddesses? 
Ye  have  shivered  mountains  asinider,  made  the  hard  iron  pliant  to  you  as  putty  ; 
the  forest-giants — tnarsli-jotnns — bear  sheaves  of  golden  grain  ;  ^gir — the 
Sea-Demon  himself  stretches  his  back  for  a  sleek  highway  to  you,  and  on 
Firehorses  and  Windhorses  yc  career.  Ye  are  most  strong.  Tlior,  red-bearded, 
with  his  Line  sun-eyes,  with  his  cheery  heart  and  strong  thunder-hammer,  he 
and  you  have  prevailed.  Ye  are  most  strong,  ye  Sons  of  icy  North,  of  the  far 
East,  far  maicliiiig  frt)ni  your  rugged  Eastern  Wildernesses,  hitherward  from  the 
gray  dawn  of  lime  !  Ye  are  Sons  of  the  yi!>/wM-land ;  the  land  of  Difficulties 
Conquered.  Difficult  ?  You  must  try  this  thing.  Once  try  it  with  the  under- 
standing that  it  will  and  shall  have  to  be  done.  Try  it  as  you  try  the  paltrier 
thing,  making  of  money!  I  will  bet  on  you  once  more,  against  all  Jotiins, 
Tailor-gods,  Double-barrelled  Law-warils,  and  Denizens  of  Chaos  whatsoever!" 

— ("  Fast  and  Present,"  pages  236-37.) 

"A  question  here  arises:  Whether,  in  some  ulterior,  perhaps  not  far-distant 
stage  of  this  'Chivalry  of  Labour,'  your  Master-Worker  may  not  find  it 
])ossible,  and  needful,  to  grant  his  Workers  permanent  interest  in  his  enter- 
prise and  theirs?  So  that  it  become,  in  practical  result,  what  in  essential 
act  and  justice  it  ever  is,  a  joint  enterprise  ;  all  men,  from  the 
Chief  Master  down  to  the  lowest  Overseer  and  Operative,  economically 
as  well  as  loyally  concerned  for  it  ?  Which  question  I  do  not  answer. 
The   answer,    here   or    else    far,    is    perha;)S,    Yes ;     and   yet   one   knows   the 


CARLYLE   ON   THE   SOCIAL  OBLIGATIONS. 


xxix 


difficulties.  Despotism  is  essential  in  most  enterprises  ;  I  am  told  they  do  not 
tolerate  '  freedom  of  debate  on  board  a  seventy-four.  Republican  senate  and 
plebiscite  would  not  ans\vjr  well  in  cotton  mills.  And  yet,  observe  there  too, 
Freedom — not  nomad's  or  ape's  Freedom,  but  man's  Freedom ;  this  is  indis- 
pensable. We  must  nave  it,  and  will  have  it !  To  reconcile  Despotism  with 
Freedom — well,  is  that  s;"ch  a  mystery?  Do  you  not  already  know  the  way? 
It  is  to  make  your  Despotism  just.  Rigorous  as  Destiny,  but  just,  too,  as 
Destiny  and  its  Laws.  The  Laws  of  God ;  all  men  obey  these,  and  have  no 
'  Freedom  '  at  all  but  in  obeying  them.  The  way  is  already  known,  part  of  the 
way  ;  and  courage  and  some  qualities  are  needed  for  walking  on  it." 

— {'  Pact  and  Present,"  pages  241-42.) 

•'  Not  a  hay-game  is  this  man's  ii''e,  but  a  battle  and  a  march,  a  warfare  with 
principalities  and  powers.  No  idle  promenade  through  fragrant  orange-groves 
and  green  flowery  spaces,  waited  on  by  the  choral  Muses  and  rosy  Hours.  It 
is  a  stern  pilgrimage  through  burning  sandy  solitudes,  tlirough  regions  of  thick- 
ribbed  ice.  He  walks  among  men,  loves  men  with  inexpressible  soft  pity,  as 
they  cannot  love  him,  but  his  soul  dwells  in  .=jlitude  in  the  uttermost  parts  of 
creation.  In  green  oases  by  the  palm-tree  wells  he  rests  a  space,  but  anon  he 
has  to  journey  forward,  escorted  by  the  1'errors  and  the  Splendours,  the  Arch- 
demons  and  Archangels.  All  Heaven,  aU  Pandemonium  are  his  escort.  The 
stars  keen-glancing  from  the  Intensities  send  tidings  to  him  ;  the  graves,  silent 
with  their  dead,  from  the  Eternities.     Deep  calls  for  him  unto  Deep. " 

— ("  Past  and  Present,"  page  249.) 


11  '-■■'«»«i4*«K».Jt 


Jl'    ■  ' 


M 


■     1! 
I.     ■*  ,' 


I 


It       I, 

4 


t      I 


THE   CATHOLIC   CHURCH   AND   THE    SOCIAL   QUESTION. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Barry  read  a  paper  at  the  Catholic  Cot  Vrence  on  June  30th, 
1890,  from  which  I  take  the  follow;  vi^  extracts  as  ill!  strative  of  the  rising 
feeling  on  this  subject  in  tijc  Catholic  Church.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Barry  began 
by  defining  the  pr  letana'  '..s  those  who  have  only  one  possession — their 
labour.  Those  wh'  have  no  land,  and  no  stake  i.i  the  land,  no  house,  and  no 
home  except  the  iiw  sticks  of  furniture  they  significanUy  call  by  the  name,  no 
right  to  employment,  but  at  the  most  a  right  to  poor  relief ;  and  who,  until  the 
last  20  years,  hud  not  even  a  right  to  be  educated  unless  by  the  charity  of  their 
"  betters."  The  class  which,  without  figure  of  speech  or  flights  of  rhetoric,  is 
homeless,  landless,  propertyless  in  our  chief  cities — that  I  call  the  proletariat. 
Of  the  proletariat  he  declared  there  were  hundreds  of  thousands  growing  up 
outside  the  pale  of  all  churches. 

He  continued  :  For  it  is  frightfully  evident  that  Christianity  has  not  kept  pace 
with  the  population  ;  that  it  has  lagged  terribly  behind  ;  that,  in  plain  words, 
we  have  in  our  midst  a  nation  of  heathens  to  whom  the  ideals,  the  practices, 
and  the  commandments  of  religion  are  things  unknown — as  little  realised  in  the 
miles  on  miles  of  tenement-houses,  and  the  factories  which  have  produced  them, 
as  ♦hough  Christ  had  nevei  liv  jd  or  never  died.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ? 
The  great  mass  of  men  and  women  have  never  had  time  for  relig'on.  You 
cannot  expect  them  to  work  dduble-tides.  Wh  hard  physical  la..our, '"^om 
morning  till  night  ii.  the  surroundings  we  know  and  see,  hjw  much  mind 
and  leisure  is  left  for  higher  things  on  six  days  of  the  week  ?  .  .  . 
We  must  look  this  maitcr  in  the  face.  I  do  not  pretend  to  establish  the 
proportion  between  different  sections  in  which  those  things  happ'^n.  Still  less 
am  I  willing  to  lay  the  blame  on  tboje  who  are  house  ess,  landless,  and 
propertyless.  What  I  iay  is  that  if  the  Government  of  a  country  allows 
millions  of  hu.r.an  beings  to  be  thrown  into  si  ch  conditions  of  living  and 
working  as  we  have  seen,  these  arc  Le  consequences  that  must  be  looked  for. 
"  A  child,"  spid  the  Anglican  Bishop  South,  "his  a  right  to  be  born,  and  not  to  be 
damned  intotheworld."  Here  have  been  nullions  of  children  literally  "damned  into 
the  world,"  neither  their  heads  nor  their  hands  trained  to  anything  useful,  their 


JESTION. 

on  June  30th, 
e  of  the  rising 
ir.  Barry  began 
issession — their 

house,  and  no 
)y  the  name,  no 

who,  until  the 
charity  of  their 
s  of  rhetoric,  is 
the  proletariat. 
[Is  growing  up 

3  not  kept  pace 
in  plain  words, 
i,  the  practices, 
realised  in  the 
produced  them, 
be  otherwise  ? 
relig'cn.  You 
il  lai.our,  '''om 
vv  much  mind 
ek?      .      .      . 

establish  the 
P'^n.     Still  less 

landless,  and 
ountry  allows 
I  of  living  and 

be  looked  for. 
1,  and  not  to  be 
y  "damned  into 
ig  useful,  their 


THE  CATHOLIC  CHURCH  &  THE  SOCIAL  QUESTION,     xxxl 


miserable  subsistence  a  thing  to  be  fought  and  scrambled  for,  their  iiomes 
reeking  dens  under  the  law  of  lease-holding  which  has  produced  outcast  London 
and  horrible  Glasgow,  their  right  to  a  playground  and  amusement  curtailed  to 
the  running  gutter,  and  their  great  "object-lesson  "  in  life  the  drunken  parents 
who  end  so  often  in  the  prison,  the  hospital,  and  the  workhouse.  We  need  not 
be  astonished  if  these  not  only  are  not  Christians,  but  have  never  understood 
why  they  should  be.    .     .     . 

The  social  condition  has  created  this  domestic  heathenism.  Then  the  social 
condition  must  be  changed.  We  stand  in  need  of  a  public  creed — of  a  social, 
and  if  you  will  understand  the  word,  of  a  lay  Christianity.  This  work  cannot 
be  done  by  the  clergy,  nor  within  the  four  walls  of  a  church.  The  field  of  battle 
lies  in  the  school,  the  home,  the  street,  the  tavern,  the  market,  and  wherever 
men  come  together.  To  make  the  people  Christian  they  must  be  restored  to 
their  homes,  and  their  homes  to  them. 


